


Fuyuki NIghts

by ChromaticStasis



Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types, Fate/stay night: Heaven's Feel (Anime 2017), Fate/stay night: Unlimited Blade Works (Anime 2014)
Genre: Anime, Begging, Biting, Cunnilingus, Domination, Edging, F/M, Fate Series - Freeform, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Sexytimes, Spicy, fate/stay night - Freeform, random encounter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 52,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28524801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChromaticStasis/pseuds/ChromaticStasis
Summary: A collection of stories involving different characters from the Fuyuki Holy Grail Wars and the readers.
Relationships: Achilles | Rider of Red/Reader, Cú Chulainn | Lancer/Reader, Gilgamesh | Archer/Reader, Iskandar | Rider/Reader, Karna | Lancer of Red/Reader
Comments: 34
Kudos: 87





	1. Lancer (Cu Chalainn) x Female Reader (1)

The last few days have been odd, to say the least. 

First, the strange goings-on around town had put a lot of people on edge. People reported flashes of light. Lots of people were getting inexplicably sick, and people had gone missing. It wasn't a safe time to be out and about alone.

But alone you were, wandering the streets of Fuyuki at night.

You grew up in the city, so you knew where was relatively safe. The sun had gone down. Retailers had closed, and bars had opened. But you weren't going to the bar. You decided instead to investigate those flashing lights. Every time over the last few weeks you caught a glimpse of these phenomena, you found the aftermath of what must have been some horrendous car crash, or stampede.

But it was the air in the area that drew you time and again. Though you found nothing, the air still crackled with a power you were not familiar with. At first, it was like static electricity, maybe a bit of ozone. But soon, you began to feel the thickness of the air, especially in areas where there was destruction.

The park always felt this way. You heard there was once a suburb in the area, but there was no trace of that there now. Only the hardiest plant life broke through that cracked soil.

Today brought you to the high school. Everyone had long since gone, but there was a huge crater in the asphalt in the parking lot. Caution tape had been set up, likely to warn the staff not to park here. The last thing anyone needed was a bent frame or a busted axle. 

You inhale the night air, filling your lungs and nostrils with the scent of that lingering _something_ that you couldn't quite put your finger on. You crouch at the edge of the gigantic pot hole (which at this point could qualify as a sink hole) and reach out with your hand to touch the ground.

Sparks fly when you touch the crater's edge. At least, they would, if you could see what was going on. Something unseen surged when you examined the crumbling asphalt.

Yes. This was just like the rest of the sites. There were plenty of poor road conditions in Fuyuki, but the ones affiliated with the light shows were the ones that had this weird presence about them. You withdraw your hand and stay crouched, looking into the ruined pavement as though it could tell you something. Your brain worked to formulate an answer. Lightning strikes? No. The nights were clear most of the time. They were too numerous and too close to the ground to be that. Maybe a prank? No. There was a randomness about the locations that didn't fit that theory. _What could possibly cause this?_

Footsteps crunch the gravel behind you. The air crackles around you, and without thinking, you wrench your body sideways and narrowly avoid being skewered. From behind an beside you, that same crackling energy is concentrated and thick, almost suffocating.

Reflexively, you glance at where you once were and a large, red, pointed weapon hovered in the air. Your eyes dart back and forth, then land on your would-be attacker.

You scramble to your feet and face the man in deep blue-green, armor painted with strange patterns. His cold, red eyes stare back at you, his expression set in a stern, joyless scowl. Though he looked at you emotionlessly, he paused, frozen for a brief moment, his weapon lingering in the air where you once crouched, as though he were considering something. You take a defensive stance, training your eyes on the man who tried to kill you. You're startled, but your brain hasn't caught up to the fact that you should probably feel afraid.

He slowly stands up straight, relaxing his attack and withdrawing his weapon. His expression doesn't change as he sizes you up. His eyes narrow at your stance, gaze boring through you as if to say, 'Really?' He rests the butt of his lance on the ground and holds it like a walking stick, his free hand on his hip. "You sure don't know how to keep out of trouble, do you?"

You blink. "Huh? Hey! You tried to stab _me_ , remember?" You snapped at him. Your anger flares, the rush of adrenaline from his initial attack feeding your courage. 

The man's face slackened, eyes widened and brows raised in surprise. He stared in disbelief at your brazenness. Then, he grinned, an expression that mocked your bravery. "Are you joking? You're joking, right? _You're_ a _mage_?" He started to laugh, covered his eyes with his hand, apparently getting a laugh riot out of whatever it was he meant by _that._

"What are you _talking_ about?!" You knew what mages were, but you never dreamt they were real. Magic users? Summoners? Witchy people? " _Excuse_ me. I'm talking to you!" You leave your defensive posture in favor of a more direct confrontation, feeling suddenly deeply confused, and even more insecure. "Are you _nuts_?"

When you take a step forward, the spear appears, its tip pointed at your throat, in a motion so quick that you missed it when you blinked. You hold your breath, stopping before impaling yourself in your fit of rage. Your brain starts to catch up with you, and you raise your hands in a nonthreatening way. The man chuckled, though now he eyed you with criticism. "The one reason I haven't eliminated you is because you have _some_ talent for magic, so you will, at some point, be a mage." He stared directly into your eyes, touched the tip of his spear against your exposed throat. "The fact that you even _saw_ me today means I should kill you. But," he withdrew his weapon again, "you _are_ a magus, even if you don't know it. Loopholes are great, aren't they?" He gave a big, amiable smile, as if he didn't just try to murder you, twice.

You lower your hands slowly. You're convinced simply dropping them would lead him to attack you again. He definitely changed his tune when he found a way that he apparently didn't 'have to' kill you. Fully caught up now, and scared out of your mind, your hypervigilance took in your surroundings and the man in front of you. The disaster that was this parking lot. The thickness in the air. The strange armor the man wore. The ease with which he switched between cold-blooded killer and friendly face. _He's a sociopath,_ your brain fills in the blank for you. _That's the only explanation I can think of._

Drawing a breath, and steadying your voice to the best of your ability, you speak. "Who _are_ you?"

At that question, he inclined his head and smirked at you. "Just call me Lancer," he said without hesitation. 

"Lancer?" Your tone was nasal and flat, full of disbelief. "That can't be your real name."

"It's not," he confirmed, coming close to cutting you off. "Giving you my True Name would be a problem."

Your suspicion grew. "Uh-huh. Then I guess you won't need my name, either," you cross your arms over your chest, annoyed with his evasiveness.

He leveled a stare your way. "Fine with me." He rubbed his chin, as if in thought. "Odd that a mage wouldn't want to know my name, though." He leaned forward, scowling. "What kind of mage are you, anyway?"

Your annoyance starts to overcome your ebbing fear. "I am not a mage!" You ball your fists up. "I can't even shuffle cards right. You think I know magic? Mages aren't even real! Magic isn't real!" You didn't honestly believe that magic wasn't real. You were out here investigating strange goings on. Magic wasn't out of the realm of possibility. Still, you had no proof one way or the other, and this weird rando in the middle of a high school parking lot wasn't going to convince you that's what this was, anyway.

He sighed, disappointed. "Look. If I show you something that _might_ be magic-related, would you believe me then?"

You cross your arms again and hold your head high, wordlessly accepting his offer and impatiently waiting for him to show you this supposed magic-related whatever-it-was.

He shook his head and sighed again. He lifted his spear, held horizontally in front of him. Before your eyes, it faded away to nothing, small, blue wisps rising and fading from where it used to be. You stared, still reluctant to accept his evidence, until he switched hands and recalled the spear, the weapon fading back into existence, a rush of that energy moving past you like a breeze.

Okay. So maybe there's something to what he's saying.

"Then, what did you mean by 'keeping out of trouble'? You have something against me looking around?" You were still wary, but you started to relax. Clearly, he could have killed you if he wanted to. Now that the panic had abated, you looked on him in earnest and not just as if he was a threat.

He hesitated and regarded you thoughtfully. "A fight happened here a few days ago. The official line is that this is a sink hole that appeared overnight, but it was a battle." He bumped the butt of his spear on the ground near the edge of the crater. "Another hero and I had a fight here. Bastard held me off real good, too." He rotated his shoulder as if remembering some strain. 

"Another hero?" You sighed. "I'm beginning to think I'm in over my head, here."

"And that," he cut in, "is the smartest thing you've said or done all day," he confirmed. "Trust me, girl, you don't want any part of this conflict."

Glossing over the idea of a conflict, you quirk your brow when he says 'all day.' "Have you been watching me or something?" You attempt to sound disinterested, but the heightened pitch of your tone makes you come across as scandalized.

"Yep!" He smiled proudly. "Three days, now." He pointed at you. "You didn't even notice? Man, it's a good thing you're so bad at hiding your power."

The vein in your temple throbs as your anger rises. "Hey! I didn't even know I _had_ power, smartass!"

"Maybe I followed you to, oh, I don't know, protect you?" He shrugged. "I am a hero, after all. Isn't that what we're supposed to do?"

You snort at his response. "Then why did you try to stab me?" 

He shrugged. "I gave you plenty of warning. If you _didn't_ dodge my attack, then my protection would be wasted on you."

"And why do you think I need protecting?"

"I have orders," he stated matter-of-factly. "And that's all I'll tell you."

"Great. Then we're done here?" You're more annoyed than ever. The entire point of your investigations was to get answers, and this guy shows up, performing impossible feats, and then shuts you down before you can get answers. You're left with more questions. 

He clearly picks up on your irritation and flashes you another winning smile. You pause. Now that you're not about to die, you notice that this person is quite attractive. "If you want to be," he crouches, using his spear to lean. "Be a shame to waste all that time and not at least get to know a pretty lady."

_What?_ You narrow your eyes at Lancer and place your hands on your hips, as if scolding him. "What do you mean?" You draw the question out slowly. This guy is all over the damn place. But the way he looks up at you makes your face heat up. He rises from his crouched position, somehow much closer to you than when he squatted down. _Did he move forward, or did I?_ His sudden proximity made it more difficult to breathe. In just moments, this guy went from murderous, to mocking, to flirty. 

You couldn't tell if you were terrified or if this was _really_ doing it for you. He leaned down to be eye level with you, his intense, red eyes bright with mirth. "I think it's pretty self-explanatory," he said in a slightly lower tone, a smirk playing at his lips as he let the statement hang in the air between you. "I'll walk you home, if you like."  
  
You sigh. "You must know where I live already, if you've been following me for _days,"_ you muse. "Fine. Come on." You resign yourself to having his crazy ass follow you. At least, that's what you tell yourself. 

There's no doubt, this man is out of his mind. But something about him has drawn you to him. Maybe spending a little more time with him will put the last few minutes into perspective. Maybe he'll tell you more about what's going on if you're both relaxed.

_Maybe he'll try to touch you._

Heh. You _must_ be hard up for attention if that's where your brain goes. Even so, the idea is intriguing. "Um," you hear from behind you, "your home is that way?" He pointed in a direction different from the way you walked. You had just been trying to put distance between you and Lancer. The confusing air around him made you a little flustered.

"Right. I know that." You turned on a heel and went the direction he pointed, pretending that your mistake just didn't happen. As you pass, you can see Lancer shaking his head, a wry smile on his face. You shut your eyes briefly once you pass, setting your jaw and shoving your hands into your coat pockets before he falls into step with you. 

Minutes pass. Your gaze is focused to the ground several feet in front of you. Now that you've left the high school, the sensations of the air had quieted. However, Lancer's presence still created a sense of uneasiness, not because he was unreadable and unpredictable, but because something in you instinctively knew he shouldn't be here. Your mind wandered all over the place, distracting you to the point that you didn't hear Lancer's footsteps next to you any longer. You freeze in place and look around. 

Sure enough, he'd gone. Oddly, your disquiet still remained, like he was still nearby.

"Why'd you stop?" Lancer's voice was impossibly close, as if he was in your head. You jump, startled, unable to locate the source of Lancer's voice. You hear chuckling that sounded apologetic. "Oh. Sorry. I'm still here. You just can't see me."

You remember the spear disappearing, then reappearing. You relax a little bit, but still, your eyes search for the man in blue. "What did you do that for? Why can't I see you?"

"Hmmm," you hear in your head, "The streets have people in them," he explained, as if that answered your question.

You adopt a look of doubt. You start walking again. "So? What does that matter?"

A scoff. "Well, if you'll recall, I nearly had to kill you just for seeing me," he reminded you. Your face reddens, and you duck your head down in embarrassment at the obvious oversight.  
  
"I see," you say, as if you didn't just forget a huge piece of information. Rather than embarrass yourself further, you keep quiet and keep moving. Home wasn't far away. You begin to recognize the space around you, and your throat constricts a little bit. The end to your trip home. What will happen next? Is he going to leave? Did he even exist in the first place?

You make it to the door and look around. Nobody was there. None of your neighbors were walking their dogs or taking their trash out at this time of night. Sometimes, living just outside of town had its benefits.

_Benefits._ Huh. What a way to think about being left alone with someone you don't know, who had been stalking you-, sorry, _protecting_ you for days, with no one around to see who you were with or what you were doing. _Benefit_ was an odd choice of words. _What is with your brain today?_

The air pressure changed slightly behind you. For a moment, you refuse to look. Looking would admit you wanted to see him. Looking would prove you hoped he stayed.

So you peeked over your shoulder.

_Damn it!_

There he stood, brightened eyes on you, studying you. He had lost those bulky pauldrons he'd been wearing, leaving him in his patterned blue-green outfit. Here, in the darkened doorway to your home, you couldn't do much to read his expression, but you _know_ you heard your own breath catch in your throat. You turn broadside to him, clearing your throat, fidgeting with your keys. "Um, yeah. This is me," you lamely explain. You look down at your hands, and notice they shook a little bit. Your guts feel like they've twisted in knots, uncertainty cutting through your rational thought processes.

A warm hand covers yours, a gentle gesture that throws you off your guard. You can't hide the lost expression on your face when you look up at him. The contact was welcome. You liked the way his hand felt on yours. Your uncertainty started to unravel, especially now, looking up at Lancer. He smiles kindly, able to read your expression clearly. He saw what you wanted, and what you were afraid of. He saw that you wanted to invite him in, and that you wanted more contact. But he also saw the worry and concern. His hand squeezed yours in an attempt at reassurance. 

Your hand moves without your permission, moving to cover his hand with your free one, silently giving him consent. Your worry begins to erode, and when you turn to face Lancer fully, he shifts to stand even closer to you, only a handful of centimeters between you. Next to him, you feel small, his height, build and proximity all working to make you feel dwarfed. His free hand reaches out and rests on the door behind you. He leans down, his kind smile morphing to a teasing smirk. He lifts your hand and touches his lips to it, his eyes never breaking contact with yours. 

A thrill rushes through you. His lips were soft and warm, and that look in his eyes gave promise. You shiver from head to toe, your body betraying you. Your better judgment is obliterated. You know you want this man to follow you inside. Your depraved mind already sent you mental images of the things he could be doing to you, _right now,_ if only your hands would do what you told them and got that door open. But you froze in place. You watched as Lancer brushed his lips from the back of your hand, down to the wrist, turning your palm up so he could touch the delicate skin there. 

The pressure in the air felt like it crackled, though nothing around you happened. This unfamiliar surge felt like arousal, but it was stronger. Not that you wanted him more, but that the power of that response was more potent. 

You watch as he pulls back, a half-smirk and narrowed eyes meeting you. He removed his hand from the door and pulled away. "Welcome home," he said, his voice impossibly smooth. "Have a good night, now," his tone was light and teasing. 

When he turned to leave, you reacted without thought, reaching out to him. "Hang on!" A cold bolt of self-rebuke shot down your spine at your outburst, but he stopped and looked back to you, a brow lifted in question. You clenched your jaw, your rationality making a half-attempted comeback. It tried to tell you he was nuts. It tried to tell you this was a _terrible_ idea.

"Do you want to come in?" _Damn it!_ You invited him in. You didn't offer him tea or coffee. You didn't add _anything._ Luckily, your voice didn't seem panicked to your ears. 

Lancer's expression flashed briefly with what you _swear_ was a look of triumph. When his lips pulled back in a smile, you could see sharp canines peeking through. He turned back to you and chuckled. "I do," he affirmed, his voice hinting at roughness.

"Good," you said, voice barely above a whisper. Your hands finally move, expertly finding the key you need to unlock the door and open it. You step into the dim doorway, toeing off your shoes and leaving them by the door. You hang up your coat and move to flip the light on.

Your hand is intercepted, fingers lacing through yours, Lancer's palm to the back of your hand, moving it to the wall beside the switch. You feel him lean into you, his free hand holding your other wrist down at your side. You can hear him breathe next to your ear, a soft, shaky sound that you recognize as mounting lust. "I need you," he pauses for a half beat, "to tell me if you can handle it rough." His voice was oddly calm, like he was forcing it to sound even.

Your heart leaps into your throat. His chest pressed against your back, but not enough to crush you to the wall. He caged you between his arms, though the way he held your hand and wrist was careful, gentle, and his hesitation was entirely respectful. That dichotomy of the earlier gentle kisses and respectful touches, paired with the promise of hair-pulling, bone-crushing sex awakened something inside of you, and you heard yourself scoff, as if he said something funny. "Oh, please," your voice took on a teasing tone. You try to look up at him, but his cheek is pressed to your temple, preventing your look. You chuckle and feel your fingers curling in his grip against the wall. "I'm more durable than I look."

Lancer takes in a deep breath, his expanding chest pressing you against the wall, and when he exhales again, he leans further against you, keeping you pinned there. When he spoke, you felt his teeth graze against your ear. "Good to know." He pulled you off the wall, spun you around and slammed you back against the wall, one of your hands pinned to the wall and a pressure on your chest, just below your throat. Lancer glared down at you, appraising your reaction.

You grunt on impact, air forced from your lungs. You manage to keep one eye open and glare right back at him, a taunting smirk on your lips. Your free hand reaches up and touches his shoulder, tracing a line down his biceps, to his wrist, where you place your hand over his. You open your other eye, seeing that his expression darkened, his glare softening as though puzzling out your reaction. Your hand curls around his wrist and pulls his hand up to your throat, your defiant stare daring him to keep going.

Lancer's expression went from puzzled, to surprise, to a small, insolent smirk. He squeezed gently, pressure on the sides of your throat, but not the front, to test the veracity of your dare. The pressure slowly increases, your stare never wavering. Your airway constricts, and you gulp, the muscles in your throat flexing against his hold. "This is boring," you hiss at him, though your voice is barely audible.

He blinked first. His grip faltered when he saw the bright look in your eyes. The matching expression of defiance on his face begins to tear at your patience. You take in a breath, a biting remark on your tongue, but he redoubles his grip, briefly cutting your airway entirely. He leaned down, his eyes shaded, his composure slipping. Seconds pass, and you feel your adrenaline surge, your nerves on edge and your brain screaming incomprehensibly at you to _do something._ Your fight or flight instinct starts to kick in. Against your will, you begin to struggle, but Lancer's grip on your hand is too strong, and your attempts to fend him off with your other hand are largely ignored. Still, as your eyes begin to squeeze shut with the effort to stay conscious, he relaxes his hold and moves in. 

His lips are so close to yours, you can feel his breath. He hovered just out of reach, teasing you with his proximity. Your eyes widen, a white-hot frustration cutting through your resolve. Once you realize his hands are relaxed, merely resting on your throat and wrist, you snarl at him, push him off of you and grabbing him to throw him back against that same wall. While he is clearly strong and could resist if inclined, he allowed himself to be handled roughly. You splay your hand on his chest, staring up at him with a stern glare, your free hand rubbing your throat. A slight smirk betrays what you were trying for. You see his expression go from a dark, somewhat subdued look, to one of dawning amusement. His eyes brighten up and a brilliant grin graces his features. 

It was the micro-expressions you picked up on. Yes, he was smiling. Yes, he was amused. But it wasn't because he was mocking you. He saw your challenge and answered it. You replied in kind, and his grin was one of excitement. This was a grin of anticipation. He grasped the hand you held on his chest and pulled you tightly against him, his arm wound around your waist. You went willingly, thrilled to feel his firm body held to yours, meeting his anticipating grin with one of your own.

He chuckled, then pulled you into a long, slow kiss, a deceptively gentle act given the opening gambit. You lean up into him, feeling his chest vibrate as he groans, his hands traveling down to rest against the curve of your butt. That same intense feeling crackles in the air, the static without the spark, the lust that felt a bit too intense for how little you've done so far. He seemed to be feeling it, too, his hands kneading your soft flesh. You answer his groan with a whimper, each sound and movement driving you. You feel him move against you, flexing and writhing in a slight, but noticeable rhythm. You could tell he felt just as impatient as you did, but unlike you, he seemed to revel in it. He felt your fervent attempts at getting more contact, at your squirming against him, and began to laugh, a soft, quiet, breathless sound. He broke off your kiss and looked directly into your eyes as you scowled, readjusting his grip on your ass and grinding against you.

Your scowl disappears and your face flushes pink. You sigh from the contact, moving in time with him, not that you had much choice in the matter. He didn't line up properly with you, but you definitely feel his eagerness, the hard bulge in his pants rutting against your lower belly thrilling you all the same at the thought of him sliding that into you. You clutch at his shoulders, your eyebrows knit together, but still, you refuse to break eye contact entirely, as if doing so would admit some kind of defeat.

His expression must have matched yours. His jaw was slack, his breath coming in gentle puffs, his brows also bunched at the middle and his eye contact stubborn to not break with you. A particularly skillful mix of his movements and his grip earned him an unexpected, needy moan from you, which surprised you as much as it surprised him. Something in him seemed to snap, and his expression darkened. He looked up and around to find a suitable spot to take you. He settled on the open space on the floor in the main living area. 

He zeroes in on you again, and a renewed look of hunger comes over him, his glance sharp. He curls his arms around you and presses a hand to the spot between your shoulder blades, the other splaying down over your ass, his hand somehow covering both cheeks, his fingertips finding purchase in the crease under your butt. He moves in quickly and with new desperation, claiming your mouth in a kiss that made your last one feel like a test. His arms pull you against him, hard, as though to lift you, though your feet stay on the floor. He steps forward, pushing you along, his hands rooted on you to keep you from falling as he guides you to his chosen spot.

You answer his fervent pace with your own, matching his assault with a counter-attack. Though you attempt to focus on keeping up with that desperate, feverish kiss, you can't ignore the sounds coming from him, nor the ones being pulled from you. The panting, the growling, the groaning. It sounded like some kind of fight. You return to your senses, though hazy, finding your hands in his hair, your back to the floor, and your thighs cradling his body. You come alive, tearing away from the kiss and let out a sharp outcry, lifting your hips and widening the space between your knees. You thirst for this man. You want to feel so much more of him than this.

The smug grin that he gives to you does nothing to deter you. In fact, your deep scowl seems to spur him on, his features lighting up mischievously. He dips his head down and runs his tongue up from your chin, across your jawline, to your earlobe, nipping playfully at the flesh there. His voice is a taunting, sing-song tone, though low and rough. "So far, so good, love." His warm breath tickles your neck and you shiver from head to toe. You grit your teeth, but he continues, chuckling lightly. "So, what do you think? Quick and dirty?" He rests his palms on the floor and rolls his body against yours, grinding into you again, making you writhe and whine under him. He allows himself to breathe raggedly as he moves, but then stops entirely and regains some of his composure. "Or," he drew out the word, nibbling and sucking on your pulse point, "a nice, long, drawn-out torture session?" At that, he shifted to the side, removing his body from your core, replacing that full contact with the tips of his fingers, gently massaging and rubbing your cunt through your jeans. 

You quake under his touch, each and every one of your nerves sensitive and on fire from every single time he touches you. You try to glare up at him as he smirks down at you, his fingers still being gentle, which would feel so much better if you weren't still covered in cloth barriers. All you can manage is a look of distress, your glare a flash of an expression before your reactions to him caught up with you. He licked his lips and hummed, seeing your inner war at the decision you had to make. This energy between you has been unlike anything you've experienced in your life so far. What would barely be a warmup in most situations like this one, this time had you craving more, more contact, more teasing, that promise of blissful brutality. You _need_ it, and he _knows_ it. You attempt to tilt your hips so the pressure from his hand would increase, but he would not let you, simply removing his hand entirely and tsk-ing you for trying. "Unless," he drawls out, his gaze moving down along your body, his fingertips now drawing lazy circles on your hip, "you want me to call," he looked up at you from under his eyebrows, "all the shots?"

_UGH!_ Your brain shouted your frustration. You take a chance. You lunge from your supine position in a miniature crunch, moving to bite his collar bone. You were tired of his composure when you were already so close to collapse. You didn't want to go out like that. You wanted to have some semblance of control, even if only for a moment.

Your teeth find their mark, your hand flying up to hold the side of his neck. He loosed a short, but heavy moan, a guttural sound that vibrated the air around you. You squeeze your thighs together, whimpering as you adjust your grip on him, lavishing him with your tongue. "Nnngh," you hear him try to speak through his spiked lust. He tries again. "Good," he huffs out, "it's better if you fight back." He leaned his head away from you so you had unfettered access to him, but it didn't last. He saw you squirming while you held him. His eyes flashed dark, his wicked smirk returning to his lips. He reached up and found the wrist where you held the side of his neck.

You grunt painfully when he forces you back to the ground holding your wrists and pinning you to the floor, this time jockeying his knees to either side of your hips. His grin was near-manic, elation running through him. He took stock of you, your expression, your disheveled appearance, your bruised lips, and the insolent look you gave him. "Ohhh," he purred to you, "I am going to enjoy this." He leaned his head a little forward, the rattail he wore his hair in brushing against your forearm. He continued. "I'm going to bring you to the edge, again, and again. I'm going to make you," he leaned down to speak into your ear, without touching his body to yours, " _beg_ me for release." You wriggle under him, and he chuckles deeply. "That's the spirit." 

You can't form a full sentence, your thoughts pulled in a hundred new directions. You try to speak with body language by squirming against him. He leans down, still pinning you by the wrists, his head moving down to nuzzle his nose against your breasts. His appreciative hum shoots right to your groin, making you whimper again, the atmosphere around you alive with your shared lust. Your hips gyrate uselessly, his body too far away to alleviate the pressure between your thighs. You jerk and yelp, feeling his teeth sink into your breast through your clothes. He holds you there, his grip vicelike, making you writhe and struggle, a second, more drawn-out cry torn from you before he releases you. He moves away, and you feel the pain bloom out from the spot he bit you, fueling your adrenaline. He then latches his teeth against your hip, the hold there still tight, but not nearly as painful. You whine helplessly, your limbs taking on lives of their own in their struggle to feel _more_.

He lets go and looks up at you, his eyes hooded, lips parted as he breathed. He unbuttoned your pants, undid your zip, then seized your jeans and tore them off of you. He immediately pressed two fingers deep inside you, balancing himself on his free hand as he watched your expression.

"Uunnngh!" Your demeanor changes, your fight leaving you when he pierces you with his digits. His strokes were slow, languid, but powerful, his fingers lazily curled into you, as if he was trying to rub your clit from inside of you. In a moment of clarity, you realized you didn't even put up a fight when he stripped you bare from the waist down. Before you could give it any real thought, a fresh jolt of pleasure burst through you, his thumb pad nudging your clit. You suck in a breath through grit teeth. Your thighs begin to quake. Your fingers claw at the ground beneath you.

Then, he removes himself from you, just before you tip over the edge.

Your ears are ringing. You're panting shamelessly, your body convulsing as if it were trying to orgasm on its own. You're vaguely aware of a smug chuckle in the air around you. You begin to calm down, your haze of lust giving way to frustration at being so close, yet denied. Your eyes focus and zero in on Lancer, who watched you with that maddeningly confident smile. He mimed a scissoring motion with his fingers, the two that were in you, then winked. "That's one."

Your ire begins to rise again at his cocky attitude. Despite your distaste for his confidence, you are beginning to see that he earns his smugness. In a way, you were drawn to him, even if he did piss you off. You notice that his top had gone missing entirely, and saw that the lines in his armor were not manufactured. He may as well have been wearing a skin tight suit. 

He smirked anew, catching you ogling him. He let you feast your eyes for a moment before he shifted and began to crawl over to you. His eyes were riveted to you. You push yourself up to a sitting position before he gets to you, which stops him in his tracks, long enough for you to pull your top up and off. Part of you was worried he'd simply tear through your clothes, and you didn't feel like ruining your favorite shirt.

This time, it was he that openly stared. You caught him gawking at your naked form. You grin at him, in part from newfound confidence, in part from mania brought on by the edging you've just received. You lower your head and level a stare at him from under your eyelashes, the angle giving you a deceptively meek appearance. "If you think _that's_ enough to make me beg, you have a long way to go," you run your tongue over the edge of your teeth, pulling his name from your lips with intended provocation, "Lancer."

He snapped out of his trance and blinked at you. He bared his teeth in a grin, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter. "I'd be disappointed if that's all it took, _missy_." He taunted you with a pet name, since you stubbornly refused to give him your name. You toss your head up, pointing your chin at him, your gaze still fixed on him, as though in a challenge. That shadow passed over his eyes again, the brightness of his brilliant red eyes signaling he understood your intent. He resumed crawling to you, his hands soon on the floor behind and beside you, caging you once more. He sealed his lips over yours, distracting you enough with that to push you back down to the ground, his chest pressed to yours. You don't care that he got control of the situation again. The feeling of his bare chest on yours assaulted your sensibility, and it was as if you finally recognized that you were completely naked under a man who had, not an hour ago, tried to stab you through the back with a questionably-veiny spear.

Rather than terrify you, the thought thrilled you to your core. Energy surged around you, as if every inch of skin-on-skin contact you shared supercharged the particles in the air. Your hands found his sides and back, roaming over the skin and feeling his toned musculature flex under your touch. He hummed against your lips, and you knew you weren't alone in the overwhelming feeling around you. There was something going on besides typical arousal. You made a note to ask about it later, but for now, your body insisted that you worry about the details later. With that thought, your rational brain checked out for the rest of the encounter.

Surrendered to this new feeling, you broke the kiss with Lancer, slightly breathless. You chuckle smugly, waiting for him to look at you. "What else you got? You're gonna make me _beg_ , right?" You dig your fingernails into the skin of his back to emphasize your point, your expression sharpening when he hisses at that. You speak through another laugh. "I want to see you try."

His expression darkened. Something about your tone, or maybe your piercing his back with your fingernails snapped something in Lancer, something he had tried to conceal up to this point. The cocky, self-assured bastard from before was still there, for sure, but now? Now, he's been challenged. By you. He hadn't finished covering your body with his, his knees still both on one side, so you were free to squeeze your thighs together, which made you bite your lip and whimper, a quiet, desperate sound.

Lancer's growl was feral, and he pushed up again, manhandling you until you were on your hands and knees next to him. He stood up on his knees, looking down at you a vicious smile on his face. "As the lady wishes," he says without a trace of mockery. You felt his eyes rake over you, then felt as his fingertips traced down your spine, from the nape of your neck, gliding slowly down to the curve of your tailbone. You will yourself not to shiver at the contact, but only partly succeed, the hitch of your breath giving Lancer what he wants. He licks his lips, then hums again, as if in thought. "Hmm. Almost." He reached over and guided you to bend your elbows, so you were resting on knees and elbows, your ass pushed up into the air. "Mmm. Much better," he nods appreciatively.

You watch him carefully as best you can, noticing his attention was no longer on your face to see your reactions. He was focused on your skin. His fingers brushed, feather-light over your spine, traced your ribs, traveled the lines of your shoulder blades. It was pleasant, and you discovered a few hidden places you didn't realize could feel quite so nice, given the right type of touch. You decide to be patient with him. He has proven how capable he is to bring you to the edge. Besides, stretching your back out like this felt good, in a way. Your eyes drift closed, lulled to comfort with his touch. You shift a little, to rest your head on your folded forearms.

You hear him exhale softly, as if it was a laugh just stifled. Even so, his touch never paused. He continued his slow, methodical exploration of your back, his reach expanding down your sides and outer thighs. His fingertips trace the outside of your breasts, the sensation cracking through your calm. You hold your breath for a half second, a jolt going down your arms into your fingertips. As if you'd been reminded the situation you're in, and the promises made to you, you feel him brush his fingers down the back of your thighs, then across the crease just below your ass, lingering at the cleft between your butt cheeks. "Mmm. Look at that. So needy. So juicy." He doesn't clarify what he means with words, but actions. Your eyes had been squeezed shut, so you didn't see exactly where he was. You feel something warm and wet press between your folds, prodding your cunt, massaging your slit with long, powerful strokes.

You bury your face in your forearms, muffling your strangled outcry. His gentle touches from before made you forget about how sensitive you had been moments before, when he denied you the first time. Everything rushed back at once, and you felt like you'd been caught in an electrical storm, shocks running rampant through your limbs and core. You widened the space between your knees, which lowered your form just slightly, attempting to give him better access to you, but instead of diving in deeper, he ducks his head down, the tip of his tongue pressing firmly against your clit and dragging along your slit, past your dripping core, all the way up, over your asshole and ending in a playful, but hard bite against your ass cheek.

You yelp and jump when his tongue finds your ring. _What the fuck!_ You weren't sure if you were disgusted or incredibly turned on. When he bites your ass, you jump again, this time crying out in that sweet spot mix of pain and pleasure. You're shocked, stunned, and _so_ ready for more. His hands move to grab your hips, his fingers curling around your curves, and you feel him moving to press against you. When he pushes his body to yours and pulls your hips back against him, you feel his flesh, hot and hard, cradled by your split. _He's naked now, too!_ Your mouth falls open in a silent moan at the feeling of him pressed to you. You lift yourself up a little to look over your shoulder at him, wanting to get a peek.

His eyes were hooded with lust, his jaw set and clenched in effort. It was apparent, he quite badly wanted to fuck you senseless. He rocked against you, sliding his thick cock against you. You moan shamelessly and arch your back, tilting your hips trying to get him to press against your cunt, to get him to push into you, even if it's only for a moment. He grunts, seeing your movements, watching as your exposed lips spread wide for him. His grip bruises your hips, and his growl makes the air shudder around you. "Woman," he warns you, leaning forward and rutting against you. His chest presses against your back, and you feel one of his hands on your breast, his palm rolling it. He groans into your ear. "If I didn't know better, I'd say your body is betraying you." His tone was low, rough. He gave you a few open-mouthed kisses and bites on your shoulder, making you whine and squirm against him more. He exhaled, his breath hot against your skin. "Much like mine is threatening to betray me." You feel his hips pull back, though his chest stayed firmly against your back. He then pushed forward again, his cock slipping slightly into you, though only the first few centimeters. 

You both moan heatedly, you squirming and pressing back against him to get him to shove his whole length into you, him shaking and keeping himself in enough control not to let you have that. "Fuck," you hear him hiss behind you. "Maybe it's me that's going to beg today." He rests his forehead against the back of your shoulder blades, his hands stroking up and down your sides, attempting to distract himself from the pleasure that was blinding to you.

He held you there, at the point of entrance, that exquisite stretching sensation filling you with a deep-seated _need_. For all your writhing and struggling, you could not get him to move, or to let you move. You breathe deeply, then stop moving entirely. You concentrate, manually contracting the muscles in your cunt around him. You feel his fingers curl as if balling into fists, but your flesh prevents him from doing that. You set a rhythm, squeezing him while he sits, not halfway inside of you. You feel his cock pulse. You hear him curse under his breath. The mix of everything around you makes your body quake. You're _so close_. Just a _little more._

You shout in rage when he pulls out and away from you. His ragged puffs of breath signal he's equally frustrated by his decision, having sided with his stubbornness over his pleasure. You glare at each other, and he's the first to smirk, though it was a half-hearted one. He raised two fingers, making that cutting motion again. "Two," he says, a wicked glint in his eye.

"Fuck you!" You spat at him, your nerves searing from the second denial. 

His smirk bloomed to full, an X shadow over his eyes. "Remember? I'm going to make you beg before I do that." His chest spasmed in that silent laughter, enjoying this side of you.

You round on him, a death-glare on your face. "Like I give a _shit_ about that." You move quickly, push him to the floor, pin him by his shoulders and straddle his abdomen. "I will fuck your _abs_ if I have to." You make your point by sliding against him, the ridges of his sculpted muscles making you keen lewdly from the sensation.

That manic, joyous grin returns to Lancer's face at your proclamation and demonstration. He laughs heartily, which makes you uneasy. You stop moving, looking down at him suspiciously. That gives him the opening he needs to reverse on you, and you find yourself once again supine on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. Lancer settled between your thighs, making a point to press those abs against your core. "Fuck my abs, huh?" His wicked smile offered a little mockery this time. "You're _so close_ to begging me, you don't even know it yet." He uses his leverage to rub his body against you, this time flexing against you while he slides those muscles against you, destroying any comeback you might've thought of.

You hate yourself a little bit, but you move in time with Lancer's flex. It felt surprisingly good, though the idea was in no way a serious one. Soon, he shifted, his body sliding up, keeping contact with your core, until he presses ne of his powerful thighs where his body used to be. He grinds it against you mercilessly, his eyes riveted to your face. You squeal under him, the sound wrenched from you in a mix of a moan and a shout. You hear his question through the pounding in your ears. "What is it you want?"

You growl at his intrusion into your thoughts. "Nngh..."  
  
  
He pressed harder against your core, angling his leg so it rubs against the hard nub at the apex of your folds. "Sorry, I didn't quite hear that." He talks over your whining, watching your expression carefully. "Care to speak up?"  
  
"Not... begging.,.. you...!" You manage to say this, but he was right. Your body was betraying you. You began to shake again, near the edge, that torrent of impending pleasure just out of reach.

He huffed, then pulled back from you again. "Have it your way." He sighed. "And, three."

You went to glare at him defiantly, but finally took a second to look at his naked form. Your brain fails to engage, and that glare died before it could fully form. His eyes were narrowed in thought as he considered you. He sat on his knees, his hands on his thighs in resting position. Between them, his cock pulsed with his heart beat. Your abdomen clenches and you bite your tongue, pressing your thighs together once more to give yourself that little bit of friction. You begin to consider that, maybe, begging this man to make you cum wouldn't be so bad.

He runs his tongue over the edge of his teeth in a feral grin. "Oh, no. Not this time." He pries your knees apart, not that you give him any resistance. "No getting out of our deal by doing it yourself, missy," he scolds you. 

You pout, your body practically vibrating from need and anticipation. You close your eyes and sigh. "Fine," you concede. "Please, can you?" You gesture between you in a feeble attempt at asking him to pay attention to you.

Lancer's chest expands as he takes a deep breath, poking his tongue out from between his teeth. "Oh, now, that won't do. That's hardly begging." He guides you to lie back again, but this time, instead of putting his body between your thighs, he lies between them, hoisting your legs up and resting them on each of his shoulders. "Don't worry. You'll get there." He looks you in the eye as he turns his head and latches his mouth to the inside of your thigh, sucking harshly, pinching your skin between his teeth.

You yelp from the contact, your hips jerking from his vicious bite. He closed his eyes as he lingered there, drawing a mewl from you, the pain of the bite melting into pleasure as he relaxes the hold from his teeth in favor of the suction he caused, darkening the skin there. He released you and ran his tongue over the spot tenderly, as though he was an animal nursing a wound. You look down to watch him, just in time to see his eye crack open again, his mouth open and tongue still gliding over your skin.

The sight of it alone nearly made you cum.

You furrow your brow, capturing that image in your brain to keep. _Fuck, that's hot!_ You chew the corner of your lips, struggling with the words. "Come on," you whimper, dying to feel that tongue on you again.

Lancer smirked, then blew a thin wisp of breath over your sex, fanning your flames. "Getting there," he smiled cruelly, "But not yet." He moved his head up to close his teeth against the bone jutting out at your hip, giving that same punishing, bruising hickey there, the unexpected, overwhelming sensations causing you to thrash and flail under him, your body twisting and wrenching in a strange mix of wanting both much more of that treatment, and wanting him to stop _because_ it was so overwhelming. A stream of colorful curses spilled from your lips, bypassing your brain entirely.

When he finally did let go of your hip, you felt him run his tongue over that spot, too. How good that would feel on your clit. How good it _did_ feel before, brief though it was. You wanted that. You needed more of that. 

Lancer's eyes brightened again. "Four."  
  
"Eat me."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
You look down at him, your defiance beginning to crumble away as the thought of him sliding his tongue over you again and again begins to dominate your mind. Instead, now, your eyes are pleading. Your pride is replaced by curiosity and need. "I want you to eat me."  
  
Lancer chuckled. "Almost there-..."  
  
You cut him off with another string of curse words, most of them aimed at yourself. "Fuck, please, damn it, gods, I _need you_ to fucking _lick me_ , Lancer, _please._ " Your words were far from perfect begging, but your tone, expression, and body language all do the proper talking for you, and appear to appease Lancer.

"Mmmm. Much better," he purrs at you, dipping his head down again. You can no longer see his eyes over his hair, but it didn't matter. His hands moved to hold your hips, and to adjust his angle on you. That hot, wet tongue of his pressed firmly to your slit, his open mouth sealed around your lips. 

You wail and buck under him, your overly sensitive nerves forcing control from you. His grip on your hips keep you from thrusting too hard upwards, but his pace was relentless. With each full stroke, he sucked your clit, earning a new cry from you every time. Your hands were rooted in his hair, holding on for dear life as his skilled tongue did its work.

It didn't take long at all. After several denials, you were more than ready to cum. Your body twists and convulses violently, wave after wave of exquisite pleasure crashing through you. Lancer latched onto your clit and rolled his tongue over it in a concentrated, suctioning motion, prolonging your release until it hurt. Your blissful moans quickly turn to cries of mixed pain, the oversensitive nub Lancer sucked on becoming overstimulated.

He stayed for a moment too long before letting you go. You begin to relax, your entire body flooded with relief on two different fronts. Your eyes struggle not to stay slid shut as you pant to catch your breath. You watch as Lancer rises from the floor, smirking proudly, wiping his mouth and chin with his hand. "Time to turn over, girl," he informed you. "I want you back on your knees and elbows, with that beautiful ass up in the air for me."

You were sluggish to move, your limbs not wanting to obey your commands. Lancer chuckled, but waited patiently as you indulged his order. When you finally made it to your position, you looked up at him, smiling, the tip of your tongue flirtatiously poked out at him. You give your ass a little wiggle, inviting him to have his way with you. After proving he could make you beg him, you were well more than happy to let him.

Lancers eyes became hooded. "Good girl," he praised you just before he positioned himself comfortably behind you. You tilted your hips and parted your knees as best you could, opening yourself up to him. You feel one hand on your hip to steady you, then feel the tip of his cock press to your entrance, the same spot it had been earlier. Lancer's groan echoed through your home. The feeling of him pressing to you felt different since you've already cum once, the soft, sensitive, overused flesh yielding to him much more easily than before. {You push back against him, and he settles his other hand on your other hip, pulling you against him and sliding easily into your core.

Lancer curses out loud at the eagerness with which your cunt accepted his cock. Lewd, high-pitched moans issue from your throat as he begins to pound you from behind. You look over your shoulder to see his head tilted back, eyes closed and mouth open, tongue hanging out of his mouth. The sight causes your breath to hitch, and just then he hits a particularly good spot, making you cry out his title in a heated, needy outcry.

In response, Lancer leans forward, laving his tongue up your spine, one hand sliding up your body, from your hip, over your waist, under you and around your middle, pulling you to sit up on your knees, leaning back against him. He never slowed his pace, pistoning himself into you like a man possessed. His hand that pulled you up rested on your breast, squeezing and rubbing it absentmindedly. He sloppily ran his tongue from the crook of your neck up the back of your ear, enclosing the edge of your ear between his teeth, his hot breath coming in ragged puffs. One of your hands moves to the side of Lancer's head, while the other covers the hand that gropes your breast. This new angle forced his cock against your spongy walls where your G-spot is. You choke as the wind is knocked from you, his thrusts becoming more forceful and more erratic. He pulled you roughly to him, growling into your ear, "I'm gonna cum in you, woman," he declared. You nod fervently, desperate to feel him come unraveled as you did.

The moment you nod, his teeth catch hold of your shoulder, holding you in place as he thrust powerfully into you, grunting harshly with each impact. The final few thrusts were quick, until the last one, where he slammed into you, hard, grinding his cock into you with a guttural growl that reverberated your entire being.

Feeling and hearing Lancer come undone, the way he ground into you, the way he clutched at you, even the feeling of his teeth in your flesh again sent you forcefully into orgasm once more, and as he growls in release, you throw your head back against his shoulder and pant helplessly, your breaths laced with cries of pleasure. 

The very air around you thundered. The atmosphere was thick with power, unmistakable. The entire ordeal leaves you completely exhausted, in a way you haven't experienced, even in the most involved of sexual activities. 

Still, you start to come down, the air around you beginning to calm. You're drowsy, but not knocked out. You and Lancer separate, and though you're shaky, you manage to stand. You can imagine Lancer is worse for wear, too, as hard as he was going at you.

But when you look at him, he seems to be even more energetic. You narrow your bleary eyes at him, mistrustful, searching your vocabulary for the word. "I-, Incubus?" You name a demon that feeds on the sexual energy of their prey.

Lancer chuckles. "No. That was a mana transfer."

You shake your head. You didn't know what that was. 

Lancer sighs. "You'll feel better after you rest," he reassures you. "Do yourself a favor. When you wake up, go to the Clock Tower in London. They can teach you about your magecraft. And," he smiled wryly, "a couple of them may even be able to tell you about what just happened."

You blink slowly. "Huh? You're leaving, and you won't even tell me?" Your bones were weary. Sure enough, you did need rest.

"Basically," he says, "I got some of your mana in our little encounter." He raised his hands defensively. "Just a little of it. I wasn't injured or anything. I didn't need your mana. I merely," he considered which word to use, "sampled it."

You sigh tiredly. "Okay. I'm tired. I'm going to bed. Clock Tower in London, right? You can see yourself out?" You wave him off, struggling to fight the oncoming sleep.

Lancer smirks. "Yeah. I'll be seeing you." He winked, all cocky confidence again.

You smirk back, though not as widely. "I can't wait."  
  
  



	2. Rider (Achilles) x Female Reader (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a disastrous night out with friends, you find a strange man in a clearing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a request from one of my fantastic readers (who I will not name for privacy purposes, and just in case they don't like it). Thank you so much for your request!

Routine.

That's the best way to describe your life as of late. You wake up in the morning, eat breakfast, get dressed, brush your teeth, put yourself together, and leave for work. You then come home, make yourself some dinner, watch a little TV, then shower and go to bed.

It's a mediocre life, but you don't complain. It's just a bit lonely. You're in a comfortable position at your workplace. Your home is good enough for your tastes and easy to keep clean. You have a few friends you see every so often, though you tend towards staying at home and indulge your hobbies. 

The one spot you have a problem with would be your love life. You've had a couple of love interests and a few dates, but it never turned into anything serious. You found out that the problem was your shyness. You're slow to open up, and for the people you've dated so far, that posed a problem. 

Whatever happened to romance? Everyone is always in such a hurry. You don't understand what's wrong with having a little patience. You have a ton of love to give. But nobody wanted to wait. Something about a 'three date rule.' _Who even made that up?_

You're curled up in blankets, lounging in your pajamas, eating popcorn while you watch another romantic dramedy. You've seen this one a few times already, but the main characters get together in a way that perfectly summed up their story. Every time you see this part, your chest clenches, and you feel immense joy for the characters, followed by a hollow, lingering sadness. _Why can't I have that?_

The closing sequence plays and the credits start to roll. You sigh heavily, stand from your spot, and clean up the mess of popcorn bowl and stray pieces that ended up on the couch. _What a waste._ While you're cleaning up and preparing to shower before bed, your phone buzzes to life. A text message notification plays and the screen lights up.

You grumble. _Always right after movies._ You ignore it, continuing your evening rituals.

After your shower, you come back to your phone and find you've missed a few more messages while you were away.

_Hey, girl!_ Of course, it's your extroverted friend. You blow some hair out of your eye, then continue reading. 

_So, the girls and I are going out tomorrow night._

_You should come with!_

You're unimpressed with the lack of details. Your thumbs fly across the screen. _And what is it you'll be doing?_ Even though it's in text, your demeanor is suspicious.

The ellipses show up, signaling your friend is typing a reply. _Just to the park._

She's being evasive. _What, are we going night birding or something?_

It takes a little longer for her to reply to you this time. You expect that she's laughing off your snark. Sure enough, your phone lights up again. _lol you're too funny. Come onnnn just trust me this time. Pretty please?_

Your entire brow drops, your eyes set in a narrow line of grumpiness at being forced from your sanctuary of solitude. Still, you were due for an outing with your friends. Maybe it won't suck. _All right, fine. But I'm complaining the whole time._

The next message came without hesitation. _Great! Dress cute, okay? ;-* Byeee~_

You groan inwardly. What have you just agreed to? You don't bother responding. You set the phone down on the charger and curl up to go to sleep, the heat from your shower slowly cooling, lulling you to sleep.

////////////////////////////////////////////////

Routine.

Breakfast. Brush teeth. Work. Dinner. You weren't due to meet your friends until later in the evening, so you have some time to fret over what this late-night outing was supposed to be. Still, dressing cute sounded fun today. You spend some time in your wardrobe, trying on a few different things here and there, even combining some pieces of different outfits to shake things up a bit. 

After some time, and no small amount of anxiety, you choose a button-down blouse and a sensible pair of jeans. The first button of your blouse is left open, because you don't feel much like choking yourself today for the sake of looking cute, and undoing the second button was not really your style. You check your hair and makeup, having put in a little more style than if you were going to work. Satisfied that you look good, you throw on a pair of wedges and grab your phone and purse. You hesitate at the front door, taking a big breath in, then releasing it slowly as you text your friends. _I'm on my way._

//////////////////////////////////////////////// _  
_

You slump down into the bench seat at the bar, hunkering down into a corner, sullen and annoyed. _Of course_ your friends took you speed dating. _Of course_ they didn't tell you what was going on, and, _of course,_ they managed to find people of interest to exchange numbers. 

You, on the other hand, found the same old lines boring. Tiresome. Downright unimaginative. You don't want to talk about the weather, or your job. You don't care about their jobs, and your lack of interest and general anxiety about small talk showed through every time you tried to speak. For you, today, as was often the case, it was a big waste of time. You listen to your friends exchanging stories about the people they chatted with, and your annoyance grows. Part of you is a little bit envious that they are comfortable being flippant about their dating choices. Try as you might, you can't seem to let yourself be taken by a moment and throw caution to the wind.

"You really ought to relax." They meant well, but you _couldn't._ You've _tried._ You're simply not wired the same way they are, and these repeated reminders are starting to get you down.

Your eyes slide from your friends, to the window. At least the drinks in this place were good. You sipped yours to enjoy the flavor more than the alcohol. Liquor made you woozy if you drank it too fast, but the taste made it worth the risk.

////////////////////////////////////////////////

You're fortunate today, because the drink was poured weak. You managed to catch the bus home, though the stop as a few blocks from where you lived. The bars were closing, and as such, the sidewalks were a little crowded. You focus your eyes a few feet in front of you to the ground. If you don't make eye contact with anybody, then they won't try to talk to you. The last thing you need after a day like today is some drunken slob hanging all over you, trying to get into your pants.

Your luck ran out. Turns out, looking at the ground doesn't prepare you for aerial assaults, and from behind you, raucous laughter was the precursor for a weight being suddenly and forcefully thrown onto your shoulder and side. "Eyyy, girl, you're lookin' _good_ tonight!" You yelp at the contact, panic rising from the sudden unwelcome contact. Your eyes widen, and you look to the source of the voice. Sure enough, it was a local, known for drinking and picking up women on weekends. You've been on his radar before, and tonight put you right in his sights. 

"Ugh," you can't stop yourself from wrinkling your nose in disgust. This guy's breath was like a distillery. "Get off me!" You try to push him away, partly succeeding in removing him, but entirely succeeding in upsetting him.

"Huh?" His obnoxious question blasted your face and nostrils with more of his rancid breath. You saw his face, red as a tomato, morph from sloppy drunk, to dazed and confused, to growing anger. "Hey. You think you're too good for me?" He spread his arms in a way that said, 'look at what you're missing!' as if it's supposed to impress you. 

You shrink back, trying to distance yourself from this impending lunatic. "No, I..."  
  
"Well, then, what's the _problem?!_ " He shouts at an unreasonable volume, making you flinch. Your eyes are the size of dinner plates, your senses taking in every detail of the man and your surroundings. He laughs at your frozen response. "Yeah, see? I knew you'd hang around if I just showed ya!"

_Showed me what?_ Your brain is in overdrive, trying to think of what to do. He takes a stumbling step towards you, making him lurch.

That motion spurred you to action, and you bolted in the other direction. Behind you, you heard him shouting, but it wasn't at you. There were strangers around who had moved in to subdue him, but you don't care. You ran for your life, away from the man, and away from your home. You knew at least enough to not go home when someone on the street was threatening you. You didn't need him showing up out of nowhere because you were careless and let him know where you lived.

You crash through some bushes, squeezing your eyes shut before a branch could take your eyes out, throwing your arms up to shield yourself. You run bodily into something, grunting on impact, abruptly halting your mad dash to safety. The object was solid, but it did have some give. Your eyes were still shut, and your ears rang from the sound of your blood pumping wildly from your run. "What the...?" You hear a man's voice coming from the thing you bumped into. Your eyes slowly open, your hearing begins to normalize, and you look up, two brilliant golden eyes looking down at you with a shocked expression.

For a second, you're captivated. _Oh, wow,_ you caught yourself thinking. In the next second, your brain catches up with you, and you yelp, twisting away from him. "S-, I'm sorry, I, I..." You stammer. How can you say that you were just running for dear life to some guy you just literally ran into? That wasn't this guy's problem.

His expression softens upon seeing the state of you. "It's no problem," he says, his voice gentle, as if he was practiced at handling people in distress. "Are you all right?"  
  
Now that you're not pressed against him, you can see what the man looks like. You wrinkle your brow, trying to make sense of his appearance. His face was handsome, with a strong jawline and eyes you find you can hardly look away from. His hair was spiked, except for a little that fell in front of his face, and appeared to be light-green, or maybe blonde. 

But his hair wasn't the strangest thing about him. It was his outfit. You ran into a man wearing armor. Not like a full set of plate armor, but a chest plate, pauldrons, greaves, and gauntlets. He wore what appeared to be a bright orange sash, as well.

He catches you staring at him, and shifts uncomfortably. "Um. Miss?"  
  
Your skin heats up at being caught staring. You cover your face with your hands and turn away from him. "Sorry. I'm not used to seeing cosplayers in public," you answer him, unsure of how to react. You drop your hands and look away from him, trying not to openly stare again. He was _weird._ But he was attractive. Your brain starts to form thoughts of a puzzle around him. Why was he cosplaying at night? Who was he supposed to be? At a guess, you assumed it was some obscure anime character, with that kind of armor and that style of hair.

"Ahem." He says the word out loud instead of actually clearing his throat, making you look to him again. This time, you relaxed a little bit. "Why are you here?" He asked you the question you were about to ask him.

"Oh! Uh," you fidget a little, then decide trying to make something up would be too difficult. "Some guy accosted me on my way home. I ran away from him, and, well," you looked around, not immediately recognizing your surroundings. "Where is, 'here'?" You search his face, your brow furrowed in worry.

His eyes hardened when he heard you mention someone assaulting you. It was a flash of an expression, but his gaze reminded you of a predatory bird. It startled you a little to see such an intense reaction to something that amounted to a scare and a run, but nothing more. He noticed you tense up, and his features and body relaxed. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and closed his eyes "Sorry if I scared you." He lowered his hand and gave you the biggest, brightest smile you've ever seen on a guy.

When his eyes opened again, you felt a shock run through your system. You shrink back a little. "It's nothing," you say unconvincingly. "But I still don't know where I am. Or who you are. Or what time it is." You reach for your cell phone and find it's trapped in the pockets of your purse. You decide it's not worth digging out just to check the time. It was late. That was all you needed to know.

"Hmm," he considers you carefully, examining your demeanor, as if he's weighing his options. "I can escort you home, if you like." He wasn't forthcoming with his information. You're a little suspicious at first, but on further thought, you admit that you did sort of ram right into him from the bushes out of nowhere. "My name is Rider," he says after a moment of thought.

_What an odd name,_ you thought, though there are definitely names that rival that one for oddity. You chew on your bottom lip, anxious about whether or not to let him see you home. Looking around, you don't seem to have many options. Either he can bring you home, or you can wrench your phone from your purse and use the GPS to find your way.

Alone.

Late at night.

You sigh inwardly, a knot forming in your gut. "That would be nice of you," you quietly admit. You give him your name, to which he smiles kindly, repeating it back to you experimentally. You worry your lip. "I hope I'm not taking you away from your friends."  
  
Rider blinked. "My friends?"  
  
"Oh, sure. The ones you're here, cosplaying with." You tilt your head at his confusion. "I thought this sort of thing happened in groups?"  
  
"I'm not..." He sighs, then smiles patiently. "It's okay. My _friends_ will be fine without me for a little while. They'd... understand if it was to help out somebody in trouble." His smile was a wry one, though you can't imagine why. "Come on. There's a main road this way, away from where you came. Maybe it'll help you get your bearings." He gestures with his thumb, pointing toward a paved road. 

You swallow the lump forming in your throat and nod. Your nerves will not calm. The events of this day are starting to tax your reserves. From the anticipation of your friends' trap, to the disastrous dating lightning round you'd been subjected to, to being abandoned by your friends for their new booty calls, to these last few moments where you sprinted into a random guy in armor, you've lost most of your will to be conscious. You just wanted to go home and go to bed.

Besides, this guy looked imposing. He may even be able to handle himself in a fight, if there's trouble on your walk. 

This time, you catch yourself staring. Your face warms again, but this time you get a grip and pretend it isn't happening. You nod a second time, then start towards the paved road. If you get to a main thoroughfare, maybe you will be able to find your way home. You ran off in a blind panic with little thought which way you were going, or even how far you had gone. Thinking back on it now, it was embarrassing. You lower your eyes again, much in the same way you tried to do on your walk from the bus stop to your home. Your steps were quick and skittish, specifically when you passed Rider.

As you passed, you glanced at him, and saw a heartbreakingly concerned expression on his face. _He really is worried for me,_ your brain concludes, and your heart swells just a little. You glance at him again, lingering this time, to offer him a smile, and because you were touched by his concern, it was genuine.

His eyes widen a touch, then close briefly as he smiles again, a barely-audible chuckle shaking his shoulders. He opened his eyes again and turned to walk with you. He kept his distance, and you were grateful for that. If he tried to touch you at the hint of a smile, you'd feel uneasy towards him, in part because you didn't ask for it, but also because you're afraid you'd really enjoy the contact.

And, you had just met.

Even so, the way he's acting pulls at you. He seems pleased by your presence, despite your rather violent meeting. He acted like a proper good person, at least up to this point, his concern for you apparent in his actions. He was respectful of your space and didn't try to touch your shoulder to sooth you, or your hand to guide you, or your back to move you. He kept his hands to himself.

In the world's worst irony, you realize just how much you were starting to feel intrigued by the idea of his touch.

He was roguishly handsome, too. He had strong features, a dazzling smile, and eyes that captivated you whenever you looked at them. More than that, he carried himself well, you saw as you continued your walk down the road. He was at ease, but quiet about it. You walked for a solid ten minutes before you saw a road you recognized, and in that time, he struck up a conversation with you.

He told you about different battles you assume he's reenacted. He regaled you with stories of old Greek myths. While you lead the way to your house, you found yourself taking the scenic route, prolonging your discussion. You had some knowledge of the myths he talked about, and because of that, you began to open up, engaging him in the conversation by asking questions. You found he had a deep connection to, and an interesting perspective on some of the tales. He had thoughts that no one who studied them would have had.

Before you realized it, you were in a lively exchange with Rider, geeking out about his stories as if you were hearing them for the first time. His viewpoint on these myths shifted your perspective and made you really think about other stories, where other characters would have varying thoughts on the same events. 

You paused in your steps, that realization dawning on you. 

_Uh-oh_.

You hear him stop short next to you. You both stop talking and look at each other. You're trying to make sense of the positive feelings you're having towards Rider. Rider looks like he's waiting for you to pick a direction to walk. Even though he waited patiently, you still saw an intensity in the way he looked at you. It was the way his eyes set in an easy glare, like that was simply his face and not that he'd been disturbed in any way.

"Um," you start, gathering your thoughts. "It's really dark. I mean, would you mind if I... you know.." You struggle in asking him to let you hold onto him. Your heart beat furiously in your ears. You were nervous.

Rider smiled and held out his forearm, offering for you to hold onto him. "Whatever you need, miss." 

His smile, this time, showed a bit of his teeth, and a feeling washed over you that sent pins and needles in your arms and legs. Before you freeze up entirely, you reach out and gingerly touch his arm. When neither of you burst into flames on contact, you reached out again, linking your arm in his, resting your hand on his forearm. You both adjusted so you were comfortable, and you give a soft, shaky sigh, your heart still pounding in your ears. "Thank you very much," you say formally, your voice measured and small.

Rider's nod was resolute. "Lead the way," he gestured with his free hand.

You continue down the street. You were quiet this time, the contact with Rider exciting and terrifying. Mercifully, he, too was quiet on the rest of your trip home. You look up and down the street, making sure it's safe to keep going. Not that you lived in a sketchy area - but that guy from before really freaked you out when he started shouting at you. There was no one there, so you try to approach your door.

Before you could turn to your home, Rider's grip on your arm tightened, halting you. A jolt runs up your spine at the power with which he was able to stop you. You start to panic, but he shushes you, gently patting your hand before letting go. He put himself between you and the door, walking towards it like _he_ lived there.

_The hell is going on now?_ Your brain was exhausted. You decide to go with it. He gave you the way out by putting himself in front of you. He reaches your front step, then thrusts his arm into some bushes, hauling up a very freaked-out, very confused certain drunk from before. You start to sweat. You cover your mouth so you don't scream at seeing him at your house. Then, you hear Rider shouting at the man, "You wanna tell me why you're lurking outside of my girlfriend's house this hour of the night?" He held the guy up with one hand. You gawked as the situation unfolded, the man's eyes getting as big as dinner plates at Rider's rough handling of him, and the mistaken revelation that you had a boyfriend now.

You were honestly as shocked as he was. You'd heard of good Samaritans posing as the significant other of a person in danger, but you didn't think it'd ever be something you'd have to experience. You hear the sound of Rider's voice in a low growl, menacing the man, speaking, but you can't make out the words. Then, Rider gently put the man down and dusted him off, a cheerful smile belying the threats he undoubtedly just made. "Buh-bye," he waved as the drunk stumbled and scurried away from your house.

You had a feeling he wouldn't be bothering you anymore. But the feeling in the pit of your stomach wouldn't abate. You watch as Rider smiles proudly at having disposed of your threat, appearing not to have noticed your concern. "He won't be back," Rider beams, his smile so big that his eyes close. 

"R-, right." You step forward, stopping next to Rider to offer a small bow. "Thank you for that." You feel miserable. You go to open the door, then peer inside, as if somehow the guy from before would materialize in your house. You look nervously back at Rider, then press your lips in a thin line. "Would you..." You pause, thinking of the phrasing you should use. "... would you stand out here while I check my house?"

He nods. "Sure." He leans on the wall and crosses his arms, looking menacing next to your open door. You would smile, if you weren't already so emotionally taxed. You take a long, hesitant look at him, then the yawning abyss that your dark doorway had become in the moments between arriving and now. You gulp, then reach in the doorway, blindly searching for the light switch just inside.

Sure enough, you searched your home and found everything locked up tight. Nobody was there. Nobody had been there. Even your coffee mug from early in the day still sat, undisturbed and half-finished on the countertop. You heave a sigh, a calm overtaking the panic mode you'd been in for what felt like hours. You peek your head out and see Rider, stone-still in the spot you left him. "Hey," you say to grab his attention. He cracks open an eye and looks over to you. "It's all right. Thank you again for walking me home, Rider," you offer him a tired, grateful smile.

"Great!" Rider pushed himself away from the wall and turned to face you fully. Here, in the light, you got a better look at him. No, the dark wasn't hiding any features. He really was as handsome as you'd initially thought. _How unfair,_ you think to yourself. Rider continues, "Then, have a good night, miss." He clapped his fist to his chest and bowed formally, that proud smile lighting up his features.

"Um, yeah. Good night, Rider," you smile smally at him, then watch as he turns and heads back, presumably to where you found him.

////////////////////////////////////////////////

Routine?  
  
Your sleep that night was fitful, though you did manage to get _some_ rest. You kept waking up at the normal sounds that happen overnight. Stray cats. Passing cars. Neighbors waking up that had earlier work days than you. That day, you left work early and came straight home for a very long nap.

You woke up from that nap in the middle of the night. Luckily, you were off tomorrow, so if you needed to readjust your sleep schedule later, you had the time to do that.

You also woke up, thinking of the man with the light green hair. Recalling your brief time with him sent a warm feeling through you. Thinking back with a clear head, you noticed a few things about your interactions with him. Yes, he was kind, and mindful, and generally proper. Except for that last part. Even though he said it to scare off your would-be stalker, the word, 'girlfriend' kept nagging at you. You look around your room, making sure you were alone before you let your mind wander. 

In the sanctuary of your private residence, you let yourself feel however your body wanted to feel when you thought about Rider. It was innocent, at first. You blushed while you thought of linking arms with him again, of feeling his hand over yours, of more long, deep conversations about the weird and wonderful. At these thoughts, you felt happiness and contentment. He didn't try to lead you into doing anything you didn't want to do. You suspect he knew you were taking the long way back home just so you could speak with him. 

You imagined his arms around you. You imagined him planting gentle kisses on your forehead and resting his face in your hair. The warm feeling you had before starts to heat up. Your heart swells, and you start to get that tingling feeling in your hands and belly. You feel a little jittery, admitting this to yourself.

Then, the more intrusive thoughts came through. You could nearly feel his hands on you, gentle and exploratory. You part your lips, sighing when you imagine him kissing you, slowly, letting the moment build.

You then squeeze your eyes shut, then sit bolt upright, panting, warding off the thoughts. Your abdomen clenched, your brow furrowed, and a sense of disturbance settled into your mind. _I only just met him,_ you tried to tell yourself. _It wasn't anything. He didn't even try anything._ You search for a reason to deny your attraction to Rider, but you can't fool yourself.

_"You really ought to relax."_

Your friend's words come back to you in sharp relief against the frustrations you've been feeling lately. Maybe it was _because_ he didn't try anything that you wanted him to. Maybe it was the fact that he was the first person you literally ran into after being accosted that you felt you could let your guard down.

Whatever it was, you decided you're going to take a shot. You seemed to click well enough. Maybe you could retrace your steps from last night. You made note of the street signs and landmarks. Shouldn't be too difficult. He should be there again tonight. What group of cosplayers would skip a weekend night?

This time, you sorted your purse so your phone wouldn't get jammed up in the pockets. You also kept a can of pepper spray with you, just in case. You certainly didn't trust your friends to join you, and when you stopped to think about it, you're pretty sure they invited you to their little outing yesterday to keep a chair occupied while they shopped for lovers. _Some friends,_ you think bitterly. 

Prepared, you venture out of your house, making double sure to lock everything on your way out. You touch your fingers inside your bag to make sure your items were easily accessible as you began your walk.

Luckily, you remembered where the streets were, closest to the space you found Rider. Otherwise, you'd be having a lovely, winding, scenic walk in the dark, alone, without a fascinating conversation to keep you company. It took you less than half the time to make it back to that clearing.

He wasn't there.

Maybe he moved on to a different area? You looked for clues, the flashlight on your cell phone lighting up the area a bit.

You're too busy looking around to notice, he'd found you wandering the clearing. He waited for a long moment, letting you look for whatever it was before he made his presence known. "Ahem," he fake-coughed, his eyes fixed on you.

You bring your flashlight around and shine the bright beam on Rider, who covered his eyes. "Hey!" He startled a little at the sudden brightness, then chuckled. "Easy. It's just me. Rider. Remember?"

You blink a few times, then lower your phone, turn off the flashlight and put it away. "How could I forget?" you answered him, internally wincing at your own boldness.

You catch a glimpse of a smirk on his face before he bows his head. "Guess I made an impression." He raised his head again and looked at you again, his gaze piercing. "Why'd you come back here? You drop something when you crashed into me?"  
  
You flash hot for a second. "N-, no. Nothing like that." You shift nervously to your other foot. "I was just thinking. Um..." You pause, and he blinks slowly, waiting for you to get your thoughts out without rushing you. In fact, he encourages you with a nod and a smile. You blush immediately and glance away from him. "... do you think we could go on another walk?" You look up at him indirectly, practically vibrating with nervousness. "I... really liked our talk yesterday," you touch your fingertips together, fidgeting. "Way better than surface talk."  
  
He chuckles amiably. "I liked it, too. But," he paused, "what's 'surface talk'?" He starts walking towards you.

You shift back and forth on your feet as he gets closer. "Oh. Y-, you know. 'How's the weather?' 'What's your job like?' 'What's your star sign?' Crap you hear at mixers." You wave a dismissive hand, getting a little bit into your own head as you explain what you mean by 'surface talk.' He stops a foot away from you, waiting through your explanation, nodding when you stop.

"Ah, I see." His eyes light up mischievously. "So, what _is_ your star sign?" He asked in a smooth, seductive voice, inclining his head at you.  
  
"Ugh!" You play at recoiling in disgust. "How dare you!" You put on a show to hide the fact that his vocal tone totally flustered you. You hide your face in your hands, your blush deepening dramatically. You hoped the low light gave you some cover.

He laughed and crossed his arms over his chest. "I couldn't resist." He watched you try to compose yourself, and you suspected he knew the effect he had on you. The way he watched you, there was no way he couldn't have noticed. The tips of your ears burned when he spoke, that little bit of seduction still detectable in his voice. You sigh heavily and let yourself peek from between your fingers up at him. When you made eye contact again, he spoke. "You have anywhere in mind you want to go?  
  
 _My place!_

You stare at him, your hands slowly falling from your face. "Not really. Around. Preferably away from other people." You didn't really want to run into anyone you knew, and you were not comfortable having a deep discussion in front of strangers.

"Hmm." His hum was thoughtful, but his demeanor, for the briefest moment, showed the same mischievous quality as before, when he made that stupid comment about star signs. "We can wander around here for a while," he gestures to the grounds. The enormous space here had walking trails, both wide and narrow. There wasn't another soul in the space.

The thought itches at the back of your mind. He was out here alone. That really was weird. Still, he was fascinating, and you wanted to get to know him better. He would know the layout of the place, too, a possibility that didn't raise any alarms for you. If he was going to hurt you, you imagine he'd have done it last night, when he had you alone. You smile and nod. "Great!" Your whole attitude changes and you relax. He didn't chase you off. He didn't say you were misreading anything. If you didn't know any better, you'd swear he flirted with you.

You wanted to be sure, so his agreement made you a little giddy. 

He held his arm out for you again, leaving some distance between you in case you rejected his offer. Your eyes widen a little and you hold your breath for a second. _Take it!_ Your brain screams at you to touch his arm. You slide your arm into his, same as yesterday, with less hesitation than before. He smiles down at you, and you return that smile, your nerves jittery at the contact. You clear your throat. "Lead the way!" You repeat his words from yesterday back to him, your voice slightly strained and quavering. 

"All right," he acknowledges, then starts walking. You fall in step with him, a comfortable silence between you. While you move from clearing to path, your mind sends you, unbidden, the mental images you were having earlier. Rider holding you. Rider kissing you. You puff a sigh, unable to fully stifle your reaction to that stray thought. Thankfully, Rider only glanced down at you, then didn't say anything for a long moment. He didn't ask you if you were okay. He didn't ask you what was wrong. He kept on walking, making sure you were at a manageable pace with him. 

'Wander' was right. This trail twisted and wound all over the place. It was wide enough for three people to walk side by side, so you weren't squished against Rider. Another stray thought expanding on the idea of being squished against him invaded your brain, and you bit your lip to stop a second sigh. The last thing you wanted was to appear passive-aggressive, when what you really were was attracted to Rider and trying to manage your symptoms in real time.

You feel Rider shaking a little, then hear him chuckling. You look up at him, and he looks down to you, a small, sly smile on his lips, his eyes half-lidded. "You know," he teased you with that damned intentionally seductive voice again, "if you wanted to get me alone, all you had to do was ask."

You choke and stutter-step before recovering. "I-I'm pretty sure that's what I did!" Your voice was a bit high for your liking, but it couldn't be helped. He laid it all out on the table early, and in your response you've all but directly confessed to him your motives for being here.

His lips pulled back in a bigger smile. "Good to know." He didn't pry or tease you any further. He made no moves to bring you closer to him. He kept moving, enjoying the space with you.

_What is with this guy?_ You're dumbfounded by his restraint. Everyone you have ever dated takes the hint and pulls you closer, even if you don't explicitly ask for it. You chew on your lip, your mind sorting your thoughts. "Hang on," you say, your voice back to normal, now that you've had a second to recover. Rider stops like you asked, looking down at you again. You pull your arm loose from his,, your hands hovering on his biceps. "Um," you're still quite nervous, but your growing affection for Rider is beginning to overwrite your shyness. "Can I..." You move slowly, hesitating when you move closer to him, trying to bring his arm around you so you were side by side. 

When he figured out what you were doing, he rested his hand on the most natural spot he could find: Your waist, just above your hip.

_Oh shit oh shit oh shit_ your brain supplies. His arm draped around you, his fingers nestled in the dip between your hips and bust. Your arm went around his back, resting on his opposite hip. _He's accepting my affection oh fuck oh damn what do I do now?_ You're frozen in place, unsure of where to go from here. You've never initiated something like this; it's always been the other party who led you, some of whom you were more willing to go with than others. You're pulled violently from your thoughts when you feel his fingers curl around you in a gentle squeeze.

You nearly melt just from that simple touch. It was reassuring. It was promising. You lean against his side, not wanting to look directly at him just yet, your nerves aflame with wired anxiety. His hand rubs at your side in tiny circles. You expect he meant to be reassuring, but something in your gut started to stir. That same feeling you got when you allowed yourself to feel freely in your home. 

Before you know it, you're walking again, much slower this time. Pressed to him like this, you could feel the movement of his body while you walked. He was strong and confident in his steps, but also courteous in that he didn't pull you along. You recline your head and look up at him, and you can tell he is still smiling. You pass under a lamp light, and you can see his face is a little flushed. Nowhere near where you expected your face to be on a scale from pale to crimson, but the hint of it was there. 

You were staring at him again. This time, you felt comfortable enough to keep looking up at him. His interest in you became clearer to you as the night went on. He let you make all the first moves. If you leaned on him, he tightened his hold on you for a moment. If you rubbed his back, he would rub yours, too. Presently, your hand rested at the base of his spine, just above his ass. Each step jarred him a little bit, which reverberated against your hand, reassuring you that he was there and absolutely okay with you touching him in that way.

Even so, he didn't make any moves.

This walk was definitely different. There was no conversation. Verbally, you were both mostly silent. Still, the actions in this trip spoke louder than any words could. This walk told you what you wanted to know about Rider. He was a decent person. He wasn't about to take advantage of you. Even though he accepted your affection, and gave you a little of his, he still didn't push his luck with you. 

The concept was alien. _"You really ought to relax."_ Well, maybe with this guy, you could. Even though this is only your second meeting, you feel safe with him. You allowed him to take you into the forest at night, not knowing where he was taking you. Probably an incredibly stupid move on your part, but so far, it's working out for the better. 

"Hey," you speak up, leaning your head against his side.

"Hmm?" Rider looked down at you, his expression more serious, like he'd been thinking.

"I was wondering," you feel hot all over, your mind racing, your heart pounding. "I mean, I don't really... the thing is, um..." You're stumbling on your thoughts again, searching for the right words and the courage to say them. When you look up at him, he doesn't offer you that reassuring smile. His expression remains serious, like he was anticipating your words. You pause. Somehow, he's even more attractive when he's taking you seriously. _Come on, this isn't even fair!_ You let a big breath out. "I'd love for you to come by my place," you finally manage to speak your mind. That stirring in your lower belly was starting to build up.

He turned to face you, his hand sliding from your waist, across your back, then caught your arm, placing your hand in his. He goes quiet, searching your face. His shoulders sag a little bit. "I'm not sure how much longer I have to be here," he forced himself to say. You can tell he struggles with the words, like he regrets saying them at all. "I don't live... here," he said.

"Oh." You're crestfallen. Your heart clenches. Your hand squeezes his, like holding onto his hand will keep him here, even though he's not leaving. Not yet, anyway. You scan his face while your brain works. "Well," you manage to continue, "thanks for telling me. Um," you bite your lips before speaking again, "but you didn't answer my question."

You watch as his eyes slowly widen, his mouth opening, mouthing the word, 'Oh," his eyebrows climbing his forehead as realization dawns. _Shit, shit shit! What if he says no? What if I disgust him?_ He sees the growing worry on your face, and brings his reaction under control. He squeezes your hand gently, then speaks in a hushed, kind tone. "Would you be okay with that?" 

_Oh, hell,_ you curse his perfection. His question had you nearly vibrating where you stood, goosebumps dusting your skin. You smile shyly, looking indirectly at him so you could speak without being sidetracked. "Y-, yeah." You chew the inside of your cheek, letting the words come freely. "You're not leading me on. And _I'm_ inviting _you_." You gather your nerve to look him in the eye. "Even if it's temporary, I'd like to... experience... you." The last part of the sentence was difficult to put into words. 

It was Rider's turn to look down and away, closing his eyes and smiling to himself. "'Experience' me? I can't say I've ever had it said to me quite like that." You could tell he was blushing. Your emotions shifted from that waning fear of rejection, and the welcome anticipation of his acceptance. He turned to you again. "Assuming we're talking about...?" He trails off.

You heat up again at his hesitation. Now it was _him_ that was afraid of scaring _you_ away. "We are," you confirm for him. With trembling hands, you decide boldness for this one thing was warranted to get your point across. You move his hands both down to your hips, then place your hands gently on his chest, looking up at him with determination. You _willed him_ to understand so you wouldn't have to say it out loud. 

His hands gently squeeze your hips, and a thrill runs through your body like an electrical current. His features light up with a warm, genuine smile at the reaction he caused from you. He pulled you closer to him, although he gave you plenty of opportunity to pull away. But you went willingly, your hands moving up and around to drape your arms around his neck. Your eyes light up at his smile. "Mmm," he hums, "I'll agree to that."

You giggle lightly, giddy from his reply. "Good." You lean onto him, deepening your embrace from barely touching, to pressed together. 

To your surprise, there is no chest plate under the shirt he wears. _Do muscles get that firm?_ Your smile fades and your jaw relaxes. You stare up at him, in awe from several different realizations at once, the most prominent of which was how toned he was under his clothes. You squirm a little at the thought of 'under his clothes', your brows bunching together from the strain to keep yourself under control.

You were surprised by your reaction to him. In the past, you've been reserved and passive. This sort of thing happened _to_ you. You never really sought it out. But with Rider, various parts of you came alive simply being near him. You could feel your pulse in your fingertips and your lips. Your tongue tingled from excitement. Even your bones screamed at you to jump on this guy and, well, ride him.

Rider leaned in close to you. His eyes slid halfway shut. His lips were parted. One of his hands came up to brush the back of his finger across your cheek in a tender, affectionate gesture. Your eyes fluttered closed. Rider's hand moved to cradle the back of your neck, and he held you there as he planted a soft, warm, slow kiss on your lips. 

With that contact, you melt into him. For you, nothing else existed in the moment. You respond to him, tilting your head a little, relaxing your lips. You show your willingness for this in no uncertain terms, the tiniest of moans caught in the back of your throat.

Rider heard it, though, and while he separated his lips from yours, he rested his forehead against yours. You could hear him breathing the same way as you, slightly elevated, deepened breaths. Your hands slide down from behind him to his shoulders, then his chest again, your fingertips pressed slightly against the fabric of his shirt. Your reservation hasn't quite left you, but you were quickly becoming comfortable with Rider and his closeness. A long moment passes between you, your lips brushing together in small, teasing kisses. That feeling in your bely spread, a pressure hinting between your thighs at your simmering arousal.

You lick your lips and pull back enough to look him in the face. You recognize the look in his eye. He began to feel the same way you had. His eyes were half-closed. His lips were parted. His brow set just above his eyes, giving him a hawkish look. In that moment, you felt exposed, like the look he gave you stripped you bare.

You _liked_ that feeling a lot more than you thought you would. "So, uh," your voice is hardly above a whisper, "while we walk back to my place, let's talk some more."

Rider smiled through the haze that had begin to form in his expression. "Yeah. That sounds good," he nodded as he pulled back from you. When you separate from him, your body felt cold immediately. His body warmth accounted for part of that, but the spell was broken. You definitely still wanted him to follow you home, but you weren't about to jump him in the woods anymore.

This time, you didn't meander the same way as before. You were further from your place because of your walk, so to fill the time, Rider talked about the Trojan War. Once again, you're captivated. The characters he described were vivid and rich. You could see things unfold in your mind as if it were on a screen. You're sure the look on your face was one of childlike wonder. You hung onto every word. _What a talent for storytelling._ You pass under another street light, and see he has a wistful smile on his face. It looked like nostalgia. You wondered if he was remembering the first time he heard the story in this way.

"Wait, wait." You slow him down part way through his tale. "What happened to Patroclus?" He'd glossed over the details of Patroclus and the Myrmidons. 

Rider stops in his tracks for a moment, a shadow passing over his eyes. He sighed heavily. "It was stupid. He got himself killed by defying m-... orders." His voice was weirdly monotone. He stood perfectly still, focused on his breathing, as though trying to focus.

You started to panic a little bit. "Hey?" Your voice was small, but urgent. "Rider? Rider!" 

He takes a big breath in, then offered you a sad smile. "Sorry. These stories mean a lot to me." You closed your eyes to give a relieved sigh, and when you opened them again, you saw his arm move as if he'd had it up by his face. 

"No, it's... it's good," you say, worrying about him. "I didn't realize Greek mythology was so important to you," you admitted. His deep interest had gone from fascinating and captivating, to both of those things and a little scary. He came back to you quickly, and he didn't get angry or violent when you mentioned Patroclus. You chalked it up to some sort of relatable thing from his past, and decide you've stepped too far.

You're about to apologize, when he speaks again. "It's relevant to my interests." He confirms for you, in your mind, why the details of Patroclus's death affected him so.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize." You feel a sting of self-rebuke. Have you ruined the mood by asking questions? The worry about that dissipated when he squeezed your hand in reassurance. 

"I'm glad you've got such interest," he admits. "I haven't found many people around... here that have more than basic knowledge, let alone the curiosity to ask the deep questions." He flashes a grin at you, making your heart stutter. "It's good to find someone new to discuss it with."  
  


You beam at him, his smile infectious. Your anxiety evaporates. You tuck in under his arm again, resting your palm on his middle back. "Would you still like to come over?" You ask him carefully. After digging into a story like that, you wanted to give him an out if he needed one.

He looked down at you, a slight shock on his face. "Why wouldn't I?" But before you can explain, he chuckles and kisses the top of your head, squeezing you closer to him. He whispers to you, "I'd like to 'experience' you, too, you know." You squeak and shiver from his implication, earning you another chuckle from Rider. He plants another kiss on your temple, lingering there for a moment. 

You see your home in the distance. At once, it feels so far away, but way too close. You start to heat up again, your heart rate speeding up. You want to slow down. You want to sprint. You want to get into your home so you can fully relax in your own space, and really be able to express yourself. Out here, in public spaces, you found the possibility of prying eyes restrictive and off-putting.

You look up at Rider, and feel jittery. It's been a little while since you even _kissed_ a guy, and you're bringing this one to your house for a fling. An on-purpose, probably one-time-only fling. On the one hand, it's disappointing that your paths will diverge so soon as to not start even a casual friendship. 

But on the other hand, the idea of not seeing him in the future opened up new possibilities for you. Specifically, you felt a little bold already having invited him here. You wondered if you could carry on with that energy and let yourself immerse fully into this experience.

The door stands in front of you, the doorway appearing much larger than you remember. _Was it always so damn big?_ You shivered again, giddy and excited and nervous. Your hands managed to steady and get the door open. You stand next to the open door and gesture. "Would you like to come in?"  
  
His eyes flash with a brief glimpse of mischief. He looks like he wants to say something, but holds his tongue. Instead, he nods, stepping over the threshold past you, watching your face with his hawkish glare, until he's in the door and out of sight.

You take in a dep breath and exhale slowly, steadying your nerves. _Okay okay okay he's here he's really here now this is happening oh fuck oh fuck._ Your mind races while you step in behind Rider and close the door behind you. You hear his footsteps, slow and wandering, looking around your house while you took your shoes off and left them by the door. "Hmm. Cozy. Functional." He looks around and nods his approval, then looks down at you with that infectious smile of his. He offers you his outstretched hand.

You look at his face, then his hand, then back to his face. His smile broadened, his teeth visible, showing his own growing anticipation. You touch your hand to his, then feel yourself being pulled towards him. He wraps his arms loosely around your waist . You rest your hands on his shoulders. He dips his head down, his lips brushing yours, sending tiny shocks through your system. "Want to continue from where we left off?" He smiles, using that same smooth, low tone that teased you earlier. 

But now, you're at home. You're in your own space. His voice, when spoken like that here, floods your body with excitement. That feeling spreading from your lower abdomen took control, and instead of answering him with words, you close the distance, pressing your lips firmly to his, allowing yourself to be taken, for just a second, by your instincts.

You feel his chest vibrate when he groans, a soft, approving sound that fed your confidence. His hands roam over your back, his fingertips sending shivers through your body. Your jaw relaxes and your lips part, deepening your kiss. He grunts softly in surprise, then reaches up and holds the back of your head, touching the tip of his tongue to your lips.

You mewl at the contact, another, stronger jolt shooting through your body. He finally made a move. He wanted to taste you. The thought thrilled you, and you send your tongue to meet his, your touch experimental and feather-light.

Rider inhales slowly, tightening his hold on you, taking your permission and running his tongue over yours in slow, deliberate strokes. You're overwhelmed by the sensations he causes, unable to sit still, your body moving on its own and squirming in his hold. You hear a rumble at the back of Rider's throat and feel his hand move down your back, resting on the base of your spine above your ass, holding you against him while you squirm. His slow and patient kiss becomes laced with growing need, his actions more heated. 

He begins to mirror your squirming, his body moving against yours, and you break off the kiss with a whimper, the storm of heat and electricity running through your veins threatening to make you burst. His hand lowers from your neck down to where his other hand rested, now both palms splayed out over the small of your back, but just shy of touching your ass. Your head tilted back and your eyes closed, and Rider moved in to nuzzle your shoulder and neck. You could feel him smile against your skin before he spoke. "I like this," he says in a voice that was mixed with playfulness and arousal. You press your lips together and bite them to keep from whimpering again, and he chuckles. "Do you?" He traces the tip of his tongue behind your ear, full of restraint you could feel in the way he spoke.

You exhale heatedly, pressing your tongue against the back of your front teeth. Your hands reach up to the sites of his neck, one stopping to hold him there, the other running through his hair. To your surprise, he had no product in it to keep it that spiky. It was soft, a texture you didn't expect from such a jagged appearance. He hummed pleasantly in response and pressed a kiss to your pulse point, lingering there for a long moment. You can't make yourself speak in the state you're in, so you nod, hoping he feels that and understands.

He chuckles again. "I'm glad." He pulls back from the crook of your neck and looks down at you. His face is warm, and his pupils are dilated. His smile was open, his teeth not quite touching, and you realize it's because his breath has picked up again. It occurs to you that you've put him in this state, this patient, kind, and _stunning_ man. You shiver at the thought, your confidence through the roof. But you're frozen again. You're here, wrapped tight in his arms, his gaze unwaveringly on you. You know what you want, but you can't make yourself say it. The frustration must be apparent, because he relaxes his hold on you, his fingertips tracing up and down your back again. He murmurs, "Where would you like to go? Surely you don't mean for us to do this in the doorway?" That teasing and playful tone shook you from your catatonic state, and you looked around.

Sure enough, you hadn't made it more than a few steps into your house. You can't help but smile. You were both so eager, and have just now realized where you were. You sigh, a precursor to your own laugh. "Well, it's customary to use the bedroom," you offer the suggestion.  
  
Rider's eyes narrow as he grins. "Customary, yes." He leaned in close again, towering over you as he spoke. "But is it where _you_ want to go?"

You're not sure how to answer that. It _is_ where you want to go, you're sure. Or, you were, until he asked. You thought about it for a moment, and more images of you and he in various positions on different surfaces throughout your house flooded your mind. You bite your lower lip, and your eyes narrow. He gave you no indication as to his preferences. When you really thought about it, though, you did want to be in your bed. His growing smirk made you realize, "You did that on purpose," you accused him.

His chuckle was silent, his body shaking just slightly from it. "I'll never tell."

_Argh,_ he was good! Your expression relaxed, and you playfully glared at him. "Come on," you say, your voice taking on an unfamiliar, teasing tone. "I think my bedroom would be a great choice," you finalize your decision.

He tilts his head up a little, looking down at you even as his chin lifts up. "You'll need to show me where," he smiles mischievously, his phrasing intentionally suggestive.

You squirm again in his hold, your teeth bared for a second as another wave of excitement passes through you. You reluctantly pry yourself from his arms and take his hand, looking him in the eye as you pass, pulling him back to your bedroom. He goes willingly, though he dips his head down again and stares at you from under his eyebrows, that sly smile playing at his lips.

You break the threshold of your doorway, turning to introduce him to your room. As you turn to face him, he's upon you, fervently kissing you, pressing his body against yours. You yelp in surprise, then giggle. The way he held you, the pressure with which he leaned on you led you to step backwards, and he followed, indicating that's what he wanted from you. You match his dizzying pace, his mouth overtaking yours, and it's everything you can do to keep up with him. You feel him groan, and before you can answer him, you feel the back of your legs hitting the edge of your mattress. He stops pushing, holding you there, his deep, passionate kiss now occupying all of his intent. 

Your nerves demand action. You hold onto him, pulling him gently, trying to fall backward onto the mattress with him. You both descend slowly, and he lies you onto the bed, breaking off from your kiss, stopping himself from lying on top of you. Instead, he kneels beside you, hovering, his eyes searching yours. 

You're flat on your back, and both of you are panting softly. The look he gave you sent shocks straight to your core, and you feel your thighs press together, the pressure between your thighs becoming difficult to ignore. His fingertips brush the side of your face, and you lean your head into the contact, sighing. Somehow, that contact brought you back to the moment, distracting you from the swiftly-mounting arousal you're feeling. Your eyes soften when you look up at him, and he returns your look with one of mild surprise. He looked like he was in deep thought about something, like he's trying to make a decision.

He turns and sits on the bed beside you, getting to work removing his greaves. You roll up on your side and reach out to glide your fingernails down his back. "Mmnh," you hear him sigh. He looks over his shoulder at you, a small, insolent smile on his face. "Just can't keep your hands off me."

Your face reddens at being directly called out, You hesitate your hand, and he chuckles. "I didn't say you had to stop," he supplies, smirking at your response. He continued undoing the buckles and clasps in his greaves, then moved to undo his gauntlets and pauldrons. You get the sense that he took his time, making you wait, or possibly enjoying the touch you give him. He answers that question by humming pleasantly, leaning and curling into your touch. "Feels good," he says, looking back at you with a hint of a suggestive smile.

You feel yourself smile the same way he did, the corners of your mouth turning slightly upward, your tongue poking out between your teeth. He closes his eyes and turns away, letting you continue. Your fingertips slide down to the bottom of his shirt, then sneak under it, sliding back up, touching his skin directly. You hear him gasp softly, like he hadn't expected that from you. He tenses at the contact, then sighs, relaxing into your touch. He cracks an eye open and looks over his shoulder again at you. "I can lose it if you want me to," he offers.

Your heart dances in your chest, and you lick your lips nervously. Your confidence keeps flowing and ebbing, and every new thing that comes up has you on edge, either in anxiety or anticipation. This one was anticipation. You knew he was well-muscled from your brief contact with him. Being able to see him shirtless had your mouth watering. You swallow hard, your eyes lit up with growing interest. "Okay," you manage to whisper without stammering. 

Not a second later, he pulled his shirt up and off, tossing it to the side and forgetting about it entirely. When he cast off his shirt, he turned to you, giving you a full view of his bare torso. Your breath catches in your throat. The lines of definition on this man were laser-cut. Every ridge and valley in his skin was clearly visible. Your hand hovered in mid-air from when he turned away from you, your fingers itching to touch his skin again.

He gave a smug chuckle, though he didn't tease you for gawking. He took your hand and pulled you into a sitting position, then rested his hand beside you on the bed. He gave you an earnest smile. "You look like you want to touch," he points out, emphasizing his words by using his free hand to trail down his own torso. Your eyes follow his hand, watching him touch himself, trembling at the thought of your hand doing that, or his hand doing that to you. Without realizing you're doing it, you lick your lips again, the look in your eye starting to reflect the growing hunger inside of you.

You can't remember the last time you wanted to touch another person so badly. You squirm, trying to gather the courage to reach out. Touching his back was different. He wasn't looking directly at you then. But now, he's looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to get your courage up. You're slow to act, but your hand drifts over, reaching out, looking for signs he'd pull away from you. He sat perfectly still, the only movements he made ones of breathing.

He sucks a breath in between his teeth and sighed erotically from the barest touch of your fingertips against his abs. You yelp and snatch your hand away, turning away and covering your face. You hear him laugh good-naturedly. He amused himself greatly. Meanwhile, your face was practically on fire. Your voice is muffled. "Why _?_ "

Rider's laughter died down, and another dazzling smile lit up his features. "I'm sorry. I was just having a little fun."

You swat weakly at him, earning you another chuckle. "Why would you fake that?" You would have loved to hear that sound coming out of him if you were actually doing something pleasing for him, but now, you just felt like he was making fun of you.

He smirked and leaned in to speak into your ear, "Who says I was faking?" He nudged your shoulder with the bridge of his nose, trying to coax you out from behind your hands. You peeked at him, finding a seductive smile on full display. "Maybe I did enjoy your touch, and wanted to express myself." You squint at him, your hands pulling away from your face, watching as he nudges your shoulder with his face. He sighs your name, looking up at you with a genuine expression of desire. "I do, very much, want you to touch me," he says, his voice taking on a husky tone.

You growl in the back of your throat at him, eyeing him suspiciously. "Okay, but no more of that," you warn him, adding, "If you make those noises, we better be doing something better than light touching."

His eyes flash dangerously when you mention 'doing something better.' Your thighs tense from his look. He nods in agreement. "I'll try to keep my excitement in check." It felt like he could be throwing snark your way, but the way he spoke and the way he looked at you made you believe the comment was serious.

You sigh. Rider was driving you nuts. One second, he expressed heated desires and acted on them within the pace you set. The next, he says or does something to send you right back into your shell, like throwing cold water on you. You try again, this time, your hand starting with his shoulder and biceps. You've touched those before, so if he pulled that shit again, at least you knew what was going on.

He leaned back to lie on the mattress next to you, his feet still on the floor. You looked down at him and saw he got comfortable, giving you control of the situation. You let your eyes move from his face, since he closed his eyes, down his body, taking in the sight of him again, your fingertips brushing against his shoulder and collarbone.

You hesitated when you saw below his belly button. His pants bunched around his groin, a definite bulge present. You felt your loins clench at the sight, your fingers absentmindedly drawing a small circle on Rider's chest. You looked back at his face and found him watching you, not a single hint of mockery in his expression. He was once more taking you seriously, his eyes half shut, his chest rising and falling evenly with his breath. Your lips worked to try and form words, but they failed you. Instead, you let your hand move freely, feeling his bare chest and abdomen. There was a place by his waist line, a V in his hips, where you heard him hold his breath, his muscles flexing in response to your touch. You began to feel hot all over again, your eyes hooded and your breath coming in soft puffs. You splay your hand out over his abdomen, feeling him as he breathed. 

After a moment, he sat up again and you remove your hand from him. He placed a gentle kiss on your lips, slow and lingering. His hand came around and began to rub circles against your back, gentle at first, though after a moment, you felt the fabric of your shirt start to get pulled along. Your skin was sensitive, and you trembled at his touch. You let him keep going for a moment before gently easing him away, your hands moving to the hem of your shirt. He watched you carefully, and with his eyes on you, you pull your shirt up slowly, revealing inch by inch of skin. You hear him swallow, and though you can't see him with your shirt around your head, you can feel his eyes on you. 

You hear him curse under his breath the moment your breasts are exposed, held up in a bra. A thrill pours through your system, and you finally discard your shirt, smiling shyly at him. Rider looks at your expression, seeing your shyness and sets his lips in a thin line. "You have no idea what you're doing to me," he says in a gravely tone. He can see now the blush goes from your face down to your belly button, and he gives a genuine, soft groan. 

Your jaw clenches as you bite back your own moan, his demeanor enough to turn you on. Possessed of your new confidence upon seeing him, you let your smile broaden. "Then why don't you give me a taste?" Your voice was small. You weren't quite sure if your phrasing was right, but it had the desired effect.

Rider's mouth fell open and he gave a harsh sigh. He moved in and kissed you again, this time pushing you down to the mattress and moving over the top of you. You yelp and giggle into the kiss, though this time it's short-lived. He devours you, his mouth claiming yours, pouring all of his lust into it. His arms press against your sides and his hips nestle in between your thighs, his body pressed firmly to your core. Your giggle melts into a delicious moan, your fingers scratching at Rider's scalp, feeling his bare torso against your skin. He was powerful, you felt, and his fervent, hungry kiss coupled with your bodies pressed together made you writhe a little bit under him. 

Rider groaned in a way that sounded frustrated, and you felt his arm sneak underneath you. He found the clasp to your bra and, after a couple tries, managed to unhook it. He broke off the kiss, now breathing heavily, looking down at you with rising desire. You let your hands fall to the mattress beside your head, your now-loose bra barely covering your breasts. He curses again, this time in a low, growling voice, seeing you lying under him, face pink, lips puffy from your lustful kiss. 

Your eyes twinkle in a tiny bit of your own mischief, and you slide your arms out of the shoulder bands of your bra. You leave the fabric covering up your breasts, a deceptively innocent smile on your lips. You now knew what the sight and feel of your body did to Rider. Now, you wanted to tease him a little bit the same spirit that he teased you. He narrowed his eyes at you, and you gave him a cheeky smile, answering his unasked question. "You felt me touch you under your clothes," you pouted. "Now you can touch me under mine."

Rider hissed at your words, gritting his teeth, then grinning. "Of course," he says, leaning down and planting a kiss just under your collar bone. "What could I have _possibly_ been thinking?" You close your eyes and lay your head back, feeling his fingertips run up your bare sides. He left a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses all over the area just above your breasts, touching his tongue to your skin more than once. You keen quietly from his touches, his fingers hovering near your bustline. He drew small patterns on your skin, teasing you as much as he teased himself. He lowered his head and pressed his tongue to the flesh of your breast not still covered by your bra. You whimper and squirm, a shudder going through you as his thumbs brush against the sides of your breasts under your clothes. His calluses were rough, but his touch was gentle, the slight scraping sensation sending your pulse sky-high.

He stubbornly left your bra where it was, then placed his open mouth over the meat of your other breast, giving you a very gentle bite, merely holding you with his teeth. You whine helplessly at the feeling of his tongue lavishing your skin the way he'd done to your tongue when he kissed you. He chuckles softly and lets go of you, pushing himself up and looking at you, his eyes sharp and hooded. "Satisfied?"  
  
  
You try to glare at him, but you can't muster up the will, instead letting your eyes flutter closed again, your breath coming in soft puffs. He rumbled at your response, lying beside you on the mattress, nuzzling up behind your ear. "If that's how you react to this," he rests his hand on your skin where he'd seconds ago been biting you, "imagine if I..." He lets the sentence trail off and his hands do the talking. He slides his hand slowly down your body, this time allowing your bra to be moved, though that wasn't the intended purpose. His attention was on your abdomen anyway, watching for where to slow down. You discard the fabric, tired of having it sit on you uselessly, and you feel that coil in your gut tighten when his fingertips reach the belt line of your pants. You reflexively tilted your hips, earning yourself another chuckle from Rider. "Mmm. You must have a vivid imagination," he observes, his touch slowed to a crawl, his hand passing over your pants button, then your zip, stopping at the bottom of your zipper, just shy of any truly sensitive parts. "If I didn't know better," he teases, "I'd think there was something you wanted" His hand cups against your pubic bone, his fingertips just out of reach of where you want him to be.

You crack your eyes open to look at him, your mind a fog of lust. "So, do you want something?" His hand inches back up your body, the tips of his fingers catching just inside the band of your pants, wiggling there playfully. His voice took on a slightly more serious tone. "Because I want to touch you," he shuddered beside you at his vocal admission, "but if you want me to stop, you have to say something."

_Still concerned,_ your rational brain informs you. You blink a few times. _Why on this green earth would I_ ever _want you to stop?_ You reach up to touch the side of his face, looking him in the eyes before you lean up and kiss him, flexing your hips and making his fingertips slide a little more down your pants. He takes your meaning, humming against your lips, moving his hand up over your clothes again, his fingers dipping down between your thighs, gently massaging your core through your clothes.

You squeak into the kiss from the contact, your knees spreading to let him move unhindered. You lie back down, and he follows you, trailing kisses from your lips, down your chest, peppering your tits with warm kisses and gentle bites. You cover your mouth with your forearm, drowning some of your cries behind it. Rider's hot tongue drew a trail back up your chest and he leaned up to look at your face, his hand at a steady, gentle pace. Your eyes are screwed shut, this intimate contact with Rider overwhelming you, but the lack of direct contact keeps you from being anywhere near climax. More than anything, you're thrilled by the idea that he's touching you this way, and he's enjoying it.

Then he stops, his hand moving to undo your jeans. He's watching your expression, and you crack your eyes open to look at him. He's going slow, waiting for you to object, but you remove your hand from your mouth and nod, unable to form words, your breathing bordering on ragged. 

With that sorted, Rider smiles at you, then pushes himself up, sitting beside you, paying full attention now to the task of stripping you of your jeans. He's careful, helping you to the edge of the bed so you can lift your butt up long enough to let him pull the fabric down. When your jeans slide all the way off your legs, they take your socks with them, the cloth having caught on the denim. You prop up on your elbows to watch him, not wanting to miss the spectacle of Rider taking such care. Him kneeling in front of you gave you an unexpected thrill, an expression that appeared to find its way to your face making Rider's smile turn clever. He bowed his head, pressing his lips to the inside of your knee. You stare, unblinking, watching him critically as his lips move up your thighs. Anxiety finds its way back into your thoughts. "Wait, wait," you manage to whisper.

Rider stops immediately, pulling back and looking up to you. "Is everything okay?" 

You furrow your brow, struggling to come up with the words. "I just. What are you doing?" You're not experienced in this particular area. 

Rider smiled, letting the tip of his tongue peek through. "I thought that was obvious."

You shake your head and cover yourself. "No, wait!" You're a little panicked. "I haven't... I don't... Rider, that's where I..."

His eyes widen slightly upon realizing. You've never had anyone do this to you. He offers a reassuring smile. "I can _promise_ you, you'll like what I'm planning," he says gently. "I trust you not to do _that_ while I'm down here." He chuckles quietly to himself, but you still hear it, and the tips of your ears burn in embarrassment.

You nervously chew your bottom lip, but the mental images prompted by his words were enticing. "I'm... that sounds..." You wriggle a little, your internal struggle somewhat appearing on the outside in this way.

He rests a palm on your knee and smiles again. "If you don't want me to do it, that's okay," he says reassuringly. "But if you'd like to let me try, I can stop any time you need me to."

You eye him thoughtfully. He seemed genuine, and knowing now that you've not experienced this in particular, he seemed even more interested in introducing you. Your curiosity got the better of you, but not before you blushed furiously. "O-, okay," you agree, still nervous. Other people did this all the time. It might not be so bad.

He waits for you to look at him again. When you make eye contact, he leans forward slowly, maintaining his eye contact with you when he presses his mouth against your core through your panties. Your breath hitches, and your blush darkens. Seeing him stare directly at you when his face was pressed against your cunt threw you into a whirlwind of combating emotions. It was _so hot_ that he looked at you while he did it, but you can't shake how worried you are that, somehow, he'd find you disgusting and abruptly stop because of it. Part of you still worried he didn't understand what he was doing.

But then, his lips moved. Your mind went blank. It felt like he was making out with you through your underpants. Your body tenses, your eyes slide shut, and your head tilts back, a strangled groan caught at the back of your throat. The thin fabric between you did little to block the friction he caused, and before long, you felt dampness between your legs. He groaned, muffled against your body, the vibrations sending mini shockwaves through you. He pulled back and looked up to see you sprawled out on the mattress. He smiles wickedly to himself, then speaks. "See? I'm not _so_ bad at this," he pretends your reluctance was a question of his skill. 

Flustered, you lean up so you can look at him again, catching a glimpse of his prideful grin. You shakily sigh and nod. "I-i feels... really... really good," you answer. You swear heat is rolling off of you in waves. You've never been so turned on by anybody's touch. 

He hummed in agreement. "I'm glad," he says, nuzzling his nose in just the right spot, bumping your clit which made you shriek and jump. You were a lot more sensitive than you thought, that one small touch blasting you with unexpected pleasure. Rider smiles up at you, a cocky grin that you appreciated well. "Right here?" He asks, leaning down and gently dipping his tongue against the same spot he'd just nudged with his nose. You expected it this time, but then he kept touching his tongue against you, the barest of contact through your clothes, striking your clit again and again. You writhe shamelessly on the bed, high-pitched whimpering and moaning issued from your throat. You barely recognized the sound of your own voice.

He pulls away, his broad palms moving up your calves, then thighs, his fingers catching just inside the leg bands of your panties. He tugs at them, and you don't fight him because you've become a quivering mess. You allow him to strip the last of your clothing off, completely exposed to him now.  
  
He rises from the floor, standing over you, his face set in that serious gaze. You look up at him, panting, barely able to hold onto rational thought. He reaches for the belt, and you hold your breath in anticipation. He pauses, then asks gently, "Have you done any of this before?"  
  
You're surprised by the question. You have to take a second to gather your thoughts before you answer. "Uh, a little," you admit, looking away from him. 

Rider pauses and chuckles. "What I mean is, have you ever seen a man aroused without clothes on?" He brushes his fingers through your hair and smiles reassuringly. "I don't mind that you have a history."

You look up at him again, trembling. His self control is impressive, and the fact that he was ready to slow down for your sake made your heart ache. You give him a weak smile. "I have. Don't worry about me," you said, trying to sound cheerful through your arousal. You come across as breathless, and Rider gives you a kind smile, right before he undoes his buckles, pushing his clothes off of his lower body efficiently. When he makes it to his ankles, he kneels again, looking up at you with bright, hungry eyes.

You catch a glimpse of him before he leans down, that V line in his hips meeting at his groin, outlining his cock, which was fully hard. Your eyes follow him down, and the expression he gives you sends a shock straight from your throat to your core. You meet his gaze, wanting to see what he'll do, now that you're both bare.

He watched your eyes when he leaned in, the length of his tongue pressed between your lips. You bite your tongue, but can't stop the cry issued from your throat. You throw your head back, overly sensitive and unable to keep control of your reactions. His strokes alternated, from slow and deliberate strokes, to quick, feather-light touches. You writhe under his ministrations and break into a light sweat, your thighs quivering from the quickness with which he built your climax. He focuses the tip of his tongue to your clit, then presses one digit into your core, his finger sinking slowly in.

Heat seems to pour out through your shoulders, and when he slides his finger into you, a new sensation overcomes you. Your eyes are squeezed shut, you pant shakily, and your hands grip the sheets under you. You lift your hips, your body reacting to the sensations he causes. You're close, you can tell, but this feels much more intense than what you've known up to now.

You feel your cunt begin to squeeze. Rider groans appreciatively, placing his open mouth to your folds and lavishing you with his tongue. You break, each breath coming with an increasing outcry in pitch and volume. At your peak, your cries sound desperate. Your legs tense, Rider's head trapped between them, though that didn't slow him down in the least. He stayed with you through your entire ordeal, slowing his tongue and stilling his finger as you come down.

By the time he pulls away from you, you're a whimpering mess, still in aftershocks as the waves of your orgasm continue to lap over you. He pushes himself up off the floor and stands to full height, looking down at you with a cocky smirk. "I can tell you _utterly hated_ that," he teases you.

You look up at him, then shudder again, seeing him standing before you. Your core flexed, making your thighs rub together, despite the oversensitivity you felt. You chuckle breathlessly and cover your face. "Holy _shit._ " 

He grinned proudly after hearing you curse at him. He sits down next to you, placing his hand on the bed on the opposite side of you, leaning over you. "What now?" His tone was teasing, the look he gives you difficult to read. He _wanted_ you. Teasing you appeared not to be his goal. You catch a glimpse of his other hand, resting on his thigh, his fingers lazily touching himself, though not a full-blown jerk.

You sigh, a long breath let out from you when you see that. You scoot back on the bed, moving so you can lie flat, your feet no longer on the ground. You look at him and smile, gesturing for him to join you.

He shifted and crawled over you, settling his body down between your thighs, this time his groin pressed flush to yours. You whimper, and he hisses, his brow wrinkled in concentration. He rests on his elbows, his hands brushing the hair back from your face, then cradling your head in his hand, his thumb brushing across your lips. He wets his lips with his tongue, gently rocking his hips against you, sliding through your slick folds. "I want you," he says in a raw, gravelly voice, possibly the only honest reaction you've gotten from him tonight.

The words activate you again, your hands coming up and touching his sides. You bite your lip and rock in time with him, shuddering from his tone. Your body craved his, you realized as your hips tilted without your permission, desperate to feel him slide into you. He groans and bows his head against your shoulder, getting every possible square inch of skin-to-skin contact. Your voice quavers, your senses overwhelmed and overused. "I want you," you answer, spreading your legs wider and trying to get him to press into you.

He shudders from how you move against him. He pulls back, lifts his head and touching his lips to yours in a gentle, but heated kiss, the tip of his cock finding your entrance. 

When your hand comes up to touch the side of his face and you respond to his kiss in kind, you feel the pressure between you increase. He nudged forward, slow to pierce you. You shiver, holding still and providing resistance so he can push into you without delay. He gives a deep, appreciative groan, his body shaking with the effort to stay in control. His kiss stays gentle, though you try and deepen it. He resists, though he does run his tongue against your lips, forcing a whimper from you. 

Finally, he rests, fully seated inside of you. He pulls back from the kiss, watching your face. Sweat beaded on his forehead from his efforts, and you smile, brushing your palm over his forehead, clearing the droplets. He smiled, though the expression was strained. He planted another kiss to your lips, humming softly before he rocked against you in tiny, barely-perceptible strokes. 

You gasp and lift your hips to meet him, making his gentle grind against you more potent. Rider growls deep in his chest, fighting the urge to speed up too soon. Your response spurs him on, and his strokes become longer, a little bit at a time, and you begin to feel your climax start to build again. You clutch at his sides, your hands roaming wherever they could touch, from his ribs to his back, down to his ass, unable and unwilling to stop yourself. Rider bows his head down to your shoulder once more, his breath ragged, though he holds back from slamming into you. His thrusts were full now, and you could feel the swell at the ridge of him rub against your lips when he pulls all the way back. It was there that this was most pleasurable. You start to breathe in time with his movements, and before long, each breath came with its own needy, wanton moan.

Your voice soon starts to get to Rider. He clutches at you, his tongue laving over your shoulder and the side of your neck, unable to close his mouth over your skin because of his breathing. He pushes into you with a particularly forceful thrust, jostling you, making you yelp in surprise. He lifts his head to look at you, and finds you dazed, a small, wonderous smile on your face. He smiles back at you, then experiments with another, equally powerful thrust. Your cry this time was for pleasure, not surprise. 

Rider curses and pushes himself up, jockeying your legs around his waist, holding your hips in place while he sits on his knees over you. You look up at him curiously, and his hips gyrate, grinding his cock into you from this new angle.

You wail and shake under him, your legs clenching around his body. Rider's eyes were unfocused, listening to you scream and moan for him. This angle forces him against your G spot, and every single rotation of his hips sends you into bliss. You look up to see him, his expression strained, his mouth hanging open, his breath coming in rough, nearly savage groans. He was very close, his movements becoming erratic. 

While you were distracted watching him, your climax built up, and when you returned your attention to the feeling he caused inside of you, you nearly burst. Your hands fly up and grip the mattress behind your head. You're screaming his name, desperate at first, but when you came, your chant of his name became exalted, your pitch a mix between a whine and a moan.

Rider's grip on your hips was a firm one, but he didn't tighten it, instead pulling you against him with each thrust into you. He started panting, the speed and volume of his breath rising until he came, his orgasm tearing through him. You looked to watch him, his head tilted back just slightly, his eyes closed and brow wrinkled, mouth open as he moaned, a lewd sound signaling his pleasure and relief.

That's a look you'll remember for a long, long time.

Your legs relax and fall from his sides. You're both panting, breathless, and utterly satisfied. He smiles tiredly at you, pulling back, sliding out of you and crawling over to lie down beside you.   
  
You both take a moment to catch your breath. coming down from your intense high. A long moment passes, and when your breath finally returns to you both, Rider reaches over and grabs your hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it gently. You look over to see him smiling, a genuine, happy expression. "You're stunning," he whispers.  
  
You sigh and look away, blushing. "Did you really just say that?" You didn't expect to be flattered _after_ sex.  
  
Rider chuckled. "Of course I did." He laces his fingers with yours, kissing your fingers this time. "And I meant it."  
  
You look back at him again, still blushing. "Well, stop it," you glare playfully.

Rider smiles slyly. "You never _did_ tell me what your star sign was..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, confession time. Shy girls are absolutely not in my skill set for writing, so this was an exercise to begin with. I'm also completely clueless when it comes to romance, so I am really hoping the intent comes across. If it doesn't then I sincerely apologize. I hope you find it fun to read all the same.


	3. Gilgamesh x Female Reader (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At a strange tournament where normal humans imbued with power and Servants of history and legend are pitted against each other, you find the most insufferable prick of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a dream I had. I needed to write it before I forgot it, and rest assured, I am still working on my other projects. Please try not to read too much into the details of this story as it was a dream.

**A/N: This one will be shorter than the others, because I had a VIVID dream and needed to write it down. Thank you for your patience as I continue to write on my upcoming chapters and projects as well.**

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

This was a contest of sorts. You find yourself in battle armor, as though you, yourself were a Servant. In fact, it felt so natural to you that you could move in your gear as though you were wearing normal clothing.

How did you get here? Why are you even in a tournament? Why was everyone fighting? Add to that, what genius thought it'd be fun to pit normal humans against Servants? 

Still, the fighting was exhilarating. You found a profound enjoyment in clashing with titans of history and legend. You proudly stood victor to numerous fights against fellow humans and Servants, alike. Before this, you'd barely learned how to throw a punch, but now? Now, you're wielding weaponry like an old professional.

There _was_ one fighter in this tournament that caught your eye, though for many of the wrong reasons. He was arrogant and cruel. His joy came from inflicting pain, not from the fight itself. That audacious gold-and-red motif he wore also screamed of opulence. 

You were _itching_ to get in the ring with him. However, you were not due to square off until much later down the line - and that's _if_ you both survived the elimination rounds.

You didn't want to take the chance. You had to have a shot at him. You needed to test if his arrogance was earned, or if his cruelty was as bad as it seemed. You truly hated to admit it to yourself, but the idea of confronting the man in gold armor made you heat up inside. The idea that you would lose was a prominent one, and you find yourself idly wondering what he would do to you if he bested you.

With a growling exhale, you push the thought away. You're in your armor, and it's between matches, so all fighters were in their respective areas, preparing, or resting, and in some cases, recovering.

You turn to walk down some stairs, down to the waiting areas where a few Servants and other people were milling around. It didn't take you long at all to find Gilgamesh, sitting apart from what he calls 'the rabble,' watching them as one might watch an ant colony going about its day.

_Arrogant prick,_ you thought to yourself. You took in a deep, cleansing breath, and let your distaste morph into a wicked smile, small though it was, and much more present in your eyes than on your lips. You eye Gilgamesh as you walk down the stairs. You've taken three steps, when he glances up at you and holds your gaze. You meet him with a sweet smile. "King Gilgamesh," you greet him with manufactured respect. "Fight me."  
  
He blinked slowly, then opened his eyes a little wider than before. His pupils turned to slits on your challenge. He snorted. "And why should I do that?" He turned his body towards you and crossed his arms, fully acknowledging your challenge.

"Not an official fight," you hold up a finger and wag it at him. "Just for fun."  
  
He watches you critically as you finish walking down the stairs and come to stand in front of him. You were unblinking and proud, carrying yourself with confidence and, maybe, a little bit of arrogance of your own. That cracks his façade, and he lets a smirk slide across his lips. "Fun, was it? You take _pleasure_ in fighting?"

You narrow your eyes at him, your own cover starting to crack. You knew he would be irritating, but underestimated how quickly he would get under your skin. You blink away the rising ire and grin confidently. "And if I do?"  
  
"Then, we're two of a kind," he answers, his voice maddeningly smooth with a hint of amusement. He isn't shy about looking you up and down, raking you with his eyes, assessing your worth at a glance. "Shall we have a wager?"

You take your turn to snort. "Heh. No, no. I figure in _this_ fight, whatever happens, happens." Your grin of excitement is accentuated by the blazing fury in your eyes. "Is that acceptable for you, _my liege?_ " You say the last two words with purpose, and he notices, his smirk disappearing with the idea that you might be mocking him.

His eyes this close up would be intimidating, if you weren't already so ready to kick his ass.

"Fine," he says with petulance. "I'll fight you, mongrel. Sometimes, a king must keep his subjects in line." His voice was full of warning and distaste. _Good._ You didn't want him to see you as anything less than a threat, but it seemed, at least, he was on board with teaching you some kind of lesson.

He underestimates you. This will be fun, indeed.

You clap your fist over your heart and bow, though you don't lower your eyes from his gaze, your smile and general attitude clearly getting under his skin. "I look forward to it." You rise from your disingenuous bow and turn to walk away.

He grabs you by the back of your gorget, halting your departure. He pulled you back, and seethed in your ear, "I will put you in your place, you disrespectful cur."  
  
You resist the urge to shudder from the feeling of his breath on your ear, then glance at him over your shoulder, your insolent smile clearly maddening him. "Let your fists do the talking, King Gilgamesh," you answer him, swatting his hand away and continuing to walk away from him and towards one of the private training halls.

You allow yourself a self-satisfied smirk when you know he can't see you.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You'd secured a private training room so you and Gilgamesh could kick each other around, unimpeded by things like onlookers. For one, you knew he was a capable fighter, and weren't willing to let some random watcher see you fall. For the other, this fight wasn't meant for public consumption. This was your attempt at satisfaction. You didn't require witnesses. 

Gilgamesh similarly required nothing of the sort. He stands opposite you, watching you as a cat would watch a mouse. Curious. Playful. Deadly. His unwavering gaze would make a lesser opponent shrink, but you felt a pleasant shiver go through you. This was it. You were finally going to have a crack at this guy. You thirsted for a fight, and even if you lost, you felt vindicated in standing before him, ready to punch his smug face.

As if on cue, he inclines his head at you, his smile a dangerous one. Here you were, ripe for the picking, in his eyes. Somebody to be broken. Somebody to be taught. It raised your ire all over again, having him look at you like you were barely worth his time. As your face turns to a scowl, his eyes brighten. You're giving him what he wants.

He can't _wait_ to crush you.

"Are you going to stare at me all day, mongrel, or do you plan on making good on your challenge?" His stance and gestures are all calm and casual, like he's not about to clash with you. Your face is shaded by an X across the bridge of your nose, and you lower yourself into a fighting stance. At that, Gilgamesh laughs uproariously and shakes his head. He sighs deeply. "That was supposed to be your final offer out," he taunts you.

"I don't _want_ an 'out,'" you growl and launch yourself at him, swinging a gloved hand at him, a loud, metallic clash ringing through the air. Your gauntlet connected with his, and you shook with effort to connect the blow. Still, his smile was easy and smug, like you'd simply patted him on the arm. You snarl and push off of him, using that gauntlet as leverage.

_He's strong,_ you observe quickly. He hardly noticed you swing at him, but entertained you anyway. You grit your teeth. Maybe you _are_ in over your head. _Too late to turn back now, idiot,_ you admonish yourself and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. You glare balefully at Gilgamesh who, at this point, had turned broadside to you, holding your gaze with that cocky grin. "That can't be all you have. Even a mongrel has more tricks than this," he mocks you.

Strength won't work. Maybe speed will be your saviour. You dash forward again, attempting to get inside of his reach. You stop short of him, then duck under his lazily reaching hand, stepping behind his leg and grasping his shoulders to bring him down to the ground.

You crash on top of him, but are stunned. You hadn't honestly expected that to work. What's more, Gilgamesh hadn't so much as grunted on impact. You raise your head in confusion, looking down to see his cruel smile aimed at you. You scramble to put him into a submission hold, but he snatches a hand out, gripping you by the lower jaw and throat. You grunt and glare, your hands come up to clutch at his arm. _How is he this strong?_ He pushes you up and away, though keeps his hold on you as he rises, first to sit up, then to stand. He takes you with him, treating you like a bothersome garment that he didn't want to get on the floor. He seems for a moment to forget you're even there, using his free hand to make a show of dusting himself off. His grip on you tightens, and you croak, trying to fight his hold.

He then brings his face dangerously close to yours, his eyes alight with wicked intent. "Careful, now. I might just lose my _temper."_ He shakes you slightly, then easily throws you aside, sighing in disappointment.

You crash again to the ground, gasping and coughing. Still, you look up at him, lip curled in a vicious snarl. "Fuck you," you manage to spit out. 

A shadow passed over Gilgamesh's eyes when he heard your voice. "Oh," he sounded surprised and delighted. "You still have it in you to disrespect me." It wasn't a question. His mirth withers as you stand, rolling your shoulders and stretching your neck. His lips press in a line as if in deep thought over a troubling turn of events. "You warrior women are all cut from the same cloth," he sighs and closes his eyes. For a moment, you think he's resigned.   
  
He opens his eyes again, a much more serious look on his face. "I won't be disrespected by two of you," he growls. Circles of light appear behind him. His Noble Phantasm. The Gate of Babylon. The color drains from your face. This was supposed to be a fist fight! It was supposed to be a brawl! Why, then, was he going to such lengths?  
  
You hunker down, crossing your arms in front of you, as though that could do anything. Your own power surges, the one supposedly granted to you by this vague event, and your defense spikes. You grunt at repeated blows, weapons of all kinds knocking against your armor. They bounce off, leaving dents wherever they land. It lasted for what felt like ages, all the while Gilgamesh laughing heartily, enjoying that you were taking the attack and not immediately turning to paste.  
  
The time passes, the gates close, and you're left with ruined armor, though the glow around you persists. You breathe deeply, then sigh, vapor leaving your lips in a wisp. Your body moves on its own, and you lunge again, running at Gilgamesh full tilt, aiming to tackle him before your power runs dry. You connect with him the same way you had the first time, your forearms catching each other. There is a surge, and the final bit of your power spends itself in spectacular fashion, white-hot light pouring from every direction, decimating your armor and his. You and Gilgamesh both shout in effort, each trying to outdo the other, until finally, the surge quiets, and both you and he are left panting, though you certainly more weakened than him.

You collapse to one knee in front of him, unable to stand up from the stunning impact you just caused. You're breathing heavily, too spent to speak, though your glare in his general direction finds its mark. Gilgamesh smirks down at you, though he looks a little worn out from defending himself against your onslaught. "Kneeling is only natural when one is faced with a king," he says with far more ease than you think should be possible. He gestures broadly, seeming to be either unfazed or oblivious to the fact that you are now both completely naked, your armor obliterated, and your clothing torn to shreds. You begin to catch your breath, minute amounts of strength beginning to seep back into your muscles. Still, you glare at him from your knelt position, unwilling to break eye contact, unwilling to admit defeat, though you are thoroughly trounced in this fight. You bide your time. Maybe if you pretend like you're not recovering, he'll get close, and you can punch his stupid face.

Gilgamesh hums. "On second thought," he looks you thoroughly over, appraising you in a new way. "Hmm." He walks over to you, leaning down and placing his fingertips under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He smiles darkly. "This, I can work with."

You lash out, your fist striking his cheek. You connected, but your fist barely made him flinch. If anything, the smile on his face got deeper and more severe. His voice took on a sadistic tone. "Yes. This, I can _definitely_ work with." He grabs your hand and turns it painfully, making you cry out and twist, your back hitting the ground with force. His knee comes down just below the center of your chest, making you grunt and wheeze, the wind knocked from your lungs. "You see," he speaks as if you're sitting across from each other at a dinner table, "Servant or not, power or not, I am still a demigod and a king." He removes his knee from you, but keeps hold of your hand, presumably so you can't get away. "Whereas you," he continues on his speech, "are a human, and nothing more." 

_A demigod?_ You thought it was legend. He had to have been bluffing when you read that in his bio. How is having someone like that in a tournament even remotely fair? You begin to feel fear creep up your spine, and as the emotion etches itself on your face, you see Gilgamesh's features melt into something that seemed akin to affection. "Now, you're beginning to understand," he nods sagely. His free hand comes up and caresses the inside of your forearm. "I've beaten you. You have no hope for victory."  
  
You grit your teeth, but your lip quivers. You know he's right. You _hate_ that he's right. But best to live and fight another day. You nod. "I surrender." The words are broken as they escape your lips.

"Good," he pats your hand tenderly, then kneels, bent over you, straddling your hips, his eyes hungry, his smile predatory.

"W-wait! What are you doing!" You struggle, but he still has a hold of you, and you are not strong enough to fight him off. 

"It's simple. I'm taking my prize for my victory." He emphasized his point by bringing your hand up to his lips and brushing them against your skin. It was deceptively loving, for the act he implied he was about to commit. He looks down at you, the fear in your eyes starting to irk him. He plants a gentle, teasing kiss to the inside of your wrist, then smirks, though he was entirely unamused. He stands up and releases your hand, sighing with resignation. "Here, I thought we were having fun with our little tit-for-tat," he says, disappointment oozing from his words. "It's no fun if you're not going to play along."

You stare at him, completely dumbfounded. "What...?"  
  
He snorts and looks over his shoulder at you with that smile. "You didn't think I'd stoop to raping you, did you?"

"Well, I..."  
  
At your near confession, he laughs. "No, no. I have no need for such vulgar acts to keep my subjects in line." His pupil goes from round to slit again, like a cat's eye. You're frozen in place, trying to make sense of it. "Unless, you're giving your body over to me?"

He was taunting you. The idea had crossed your mind more than once today. "Come and take it, then," you challenge him again. You had no qualms about battling in this way, too. Besides, it could be fun. Looking at him in all his nakedness made you wonder about things, though you hated to admit it.

"Girl, you really don't know when to quit," his voice was heated, but he turned more fully to you, and you could see that same hunger reappear in his eyes. "Don't say this if you don't mean it. I won't have you attempting to sully my name by suggesting I've raped you."

You laugh at him then. "The great King Gilgamesh is worried what _the rabble_ thinks?" You lift yourself slightly up, only your head and shoulders leaving the ground. "Starting to smell like little bitch in here."

His sadistic grin also returned and he was upon you in seconds, pinning you fully with his body pressed firmly down against yours. His face was inches from yours. One of his hands touched the side of your face, his fingertips traveling shakily over your lips and chin. You've managed to enrage him and turn him on in moments, and you force out a chuckle, crushed to the unforgiving floor by his weight. "Show me what good it is to be a demigod or a king." You struggle under him to try and get a breath. "I'm waiting, Goldilocks."

He needed no further encouragement. His lips crash down on yours, his tongue invading your mouth, domineering and insistent. You respond in kind, your hands coming up to hold his hair, earning you a deep growl from Gilgamesh. He breaks off the kiss and immediately bites down on the side of your neck, making you cry out and turn your head away. Your fingers thread through his hair, nails scratching his scalp, spurring him on in his assault. His teeth leave your skin and his tongue travels down the bite marks he left on you.

He moves down your body, scraping you with more bites as he goes, and when he moves his weight off of your midsection, you inhale sharply, gasping for breath. You're robbed of your chance to catch your breath when he marks your breasts, each in turn, leaving bruises all over your skin. You yelp and whine. You writhe under his assault, at once in pain and _unbelievably_ turned on. Your fuzzy brain wonders if this is what hate-fucking must feel like. You surprise yourself with how into it you are, your body flooded with desire and need. Your knees came up and feet planted on the ground, Gilgamesh's body nestled between your thighs. You lewdly grind up against him in response to his rough treatment.

You hear him chuckle against your skin. Before you're pulled entirely out of the moment, your body jerks violently at the sensation of his digits sinking into you. You shriek and bite down on your lip. He penetrated your cunt and asshole both, brutally pumping his fingers in and out, reveling thoroughly in your squirming and your cries. You feel his tongue cross your chest, over one nipple, then the other. He looks up at your face, his blood-red eyes peering at you from under his messy blonde hair. "You look so pretty when you glare at me like that," he compliments you, his tongue hanging out of his mouth right before he laves it over your throat, his body inching up yours again. You moan heatedly, a strange mix of rage and arousal building rapidly in you. 

You glare at him when you get your bearings again, and bare your teeth at him. "Fuck you," you repeat yourself from earlier, though this time in a much needier tone. 

He gives a self-satisfied smirk, then withdraws his hand from you, leaving you empty and unfulfilled. "Is that a request of your king?" He scrapes his cheek against yours, pulling back enough so one of his eyes can look at one of yours.

You sneer and thrash, the feeling of him settling between your legs fueling you. His cock was hard and pressed along your slit, the tip of him nudged against your clit. "My _what?_ "  
  
"Your. King." He nips at your lower lip none too gently, his hot breath caressing your face. "Like it or not, you _are_ my subject."  
  
"Since when!?"  
  
"Since always," he says matter-of-factly, brushing your lips with his tongue. "Now tell me, my defiant little subject. What shall I do with you?" He shifts his hips so he slides along your folds, coating himself with your juices.

You grit your teeth, willing yourself not to move in time with him, though you do spread your thighs further apart. Your fingers move down from his head to his shoulders, then under and around so your fingernails could find purchase in his back. You watch his eye while you dig into his flesh, grinding up against him on your own terms. You feel a thrill rush through you when Gilgamesh hisses in response, his eye closing and head bowing against your shoulder, followed by a guttural groan by the return mix of pleasure and pain you cause to him. With his head bowed, you can whisper in his ear, "When I said 'fuck you,' I mean, 'fuck me.'" You accentuate your words by squeezing his body between your legs, your fingernails releasing his flesh, stroking down the claw marks with your fingertips.

Gilgamesh's breath is shaky, each exhale nearly a growl. You're getting to him. A smugness starts to bloom in you, though you mostly ignore it when he latches his teeth against your collarbone in response. He doesn't simply bite down. He _chews_ on your collarbone, prolonging and intensifying the pain he causes, making you writhe in agony. Adrenaline floods your system, and you have a profound urge to struggle to get away. Before the urge overtakes you, he lets you go again, his tongue rubbing over the spot firmly, but gently. He presses his mouth to your ear, hit hot breath on your neck. "I know." He presses into you slowly, feeling you shudder and squirm under him. He covers your neck and shoulder with hot kisses and long, deliberate licks, humming his approval at the effort you put into trying to take him in faster. "Mmm. You're such a whore, wanting my cock so bad," he growls. "How unbecoming of a female warrior. Where is your pride?"  
  
Despite yourself, you laugh breathlessly. "It's in my cunt. Maybe you can find it while you're in there." You moan loudly, but it's a short one, when he slams the rest of the way into you, jostling your body and shocking your system. 

Gilgamesh's grin was open-mouthed and full of teeth, his eyes on you feral with lust. "I like you," he says through his haze of lust. "Maybe I'll keep you in my bedchamber as a _concubine._ " He pulled out of you and thrust back in forcefully, making you gasp from the impact. "You do seem more _durable,_ " he continues, plunging into you again, "than other _women,_ " he grunts and grinds into you, forcing from your lips a whimper more feminine than you intended. "Oh," he says, his voice a mix of wonder and desire. "You _do_ have a feminine side." 

"'Feminine side' this," you hiss at him, your hands moving down to cup his ass, looking him in the eye while you use your leverage to grind up on him. He closes one eye, his brows drawn. He hadn't anticipated your move, apparently having expected your bruised and battered form to be too weak to contribute to this activity.

He curses at the prolonged grinding session you provide, unable to stop himself from moving in unison with you. He rests his head back down by your shoulder, moving in time with you, fucking you in earnest now. He wants to cum. His arrogance and your ire have been tabled, and now, your bodies shunt together, hands roaming, breath ragged. You feel him start to shake, his grinding into you becoming more fervent, more purposeful. Feeling Gilgamesh, the King of Heroes shuddering between your thighs and under your ministrations sent a bolt of pleasure straight from your throat to your core, and each new breath you take ends in a slightly higher moan. 

This was bliss. Your higher brain functions have ceased, and all you could think about, all you could feel was your mounting pleasure. There was no gentleness here. There was no tenderness. You start cursing fervently, a string of epithets spilling from your lips. You tilt your hips to meet his strokes. Your hands knead the flesh of his ass, delighting in the flex of his muscles there. Without much warning, you thrash against him, your body twisting under his and hips bucking wildly. You shout, yelp, and curse your way through your orgasm, your mouth hanging open and eyes rolled back in your head. You grip him firmly, holding him in place to ride out your orgasm, wave after intense wave of pleasure surging through you.

Gilgamesh sat up on his knees, pulling you along and resting one of your ankles on his shoulder, curling your other leg around his waist. He reaches down and clamps his hand over your throat, though he doesn't squeeze. He only holds you there, glaring down at you while he drives his cock into your depths from this new angle. He could watch you better this way, and holding you down ensured you wouldn't twist away from his gaze. He grits his teeth, concentrating now on how you look, how you feel, and how you sound. 

This was a punishing new angle. Your cries come unbidden now, the tip of him pushing harshly against your G-spot on its way into your depths. Seeing him so concentrated, so close to his end made your pride swell, and you offered him a wicked smile, doing your best through your uncontrollable cries. A shadow falls over Gilgamesh's eyes, and he redoubles his effort, slamming into you, until he groans, shudders and shakes, his cock pulsing within you. The sight and sensation forced a howl from your throat as another orgasm overtakes your senses, your body shaking from overuse. 

You're left nearly sobbing, panting, sweaty, and completely used. Gilgamesh slides out of you, his own breath coming to him in ragged puffs. You can feel his seed leaking from your opening, but you do not care one bit. You can barely feel your limbs at this point, and your head is still spinning.

Gilgamesh recovered quickly, however, and looked down on you with a smirk. "And, what am I to you now, you foul-mouthed little thing?"  
  
You meet his smirk with a tired glare and a half-smirk. "Fine. My King. You've earned it." You try to speak between breaths.

"Hah." He barks a laugh at you. "Acceptable answer," he says casually. "The offer to be my concubine still stands," he smiles wickedly at you, then turns to walk away, presumably to the showers to get washed up and re-suited.

_Maybe that wouldn't be so bad._


	4. Lancer (Karna) x Female Reader (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're always working the late shift on Fridays. But it isn't all bad.

You pulled the night shift again.  
  
This always happens on weekends. Your colleagues up and decide that, since you're not actively dating somebody, then you must certainly be free and dump all their responsibilities on you. The work needed to get done, and you were left holding the bag. Your boss approved the shift change, and not only did you show up Friday morning, expecting to work a normal day shift; you were informed that the decision had been made while you were 'busy doing other things.'

Normally, this is a minor annoyance. It's nothing to get worked up about. You got compensated for your time, at the very least. But this was the third time in two months. You were irritated that nobody in this day and age thought to pick up a mobile phone to call or text you about the changes. The frequency was suspect, and you thought it might be a concerted effort on the part of multiple coworkers and supervisors to give themselves the time off.

The shift was a 5:00 PM to 2:00 AM shift. Just enough time for everyone to go to the bar, then leave after last call. The roads would be clear by the time you got out of the office.

_Lovely._

Still, you had no proof. With the boss signing off, too, you had no leg to stand on, short of quitting or confrontation.

Like that's ever going to happen. You sigh, stacking papers on your desk neatly and weighting them down so they couldn't be easily knocked over. You looked up at the clock and groaned inwardly. 2:45 AM. You're late leaving the office. With a dejected sigh, you gather your things and leave, remembering to lock the door before you depart.

In the distance you hear some raucous laughter and drunken singing. At least you weren't part of _that_ crowd. You were way too shy, even while drinking, to ever sing in public. Doing so in a small crowd in the open during the dark hours of the morning seemed somehow even worse. You ducked your head, embarrassed on their behalf, even though you couldn't see them.

Before beginning the walk to the parking garage, you feel around your bag for your pepper spray. Never hurts to be prepared. Once you're satisfied you've found it, you start walking.

Before long, you hear a second set of footsteps. You feel your throat tighten a little bit. They weren't near you, but that somehow made it worse. Your eyes darted back and forth, though you didn't swivel your head around to pinpoint where the noise came from.

Incidentally, it was a young man walking in the opposite direction, away from the parking garage. His eyes were closed and his head was bowed. You were stricken by the look of his white hair and pale skin. He wore dark clothing and seemed to be having quite a leisurely stroll. _What an odd man,_ you think. A pressure starts to rise in your chest and you feel a yawn coming on. You bring your hand up and press your mouth to the back of it, trying to be as silent as possible. You can't stop the sigh afterwards, which does draw brief attention from the man walking opposite you.

When he opens his eyes, they're a stark, piercing blue. His expression changed, from what looked before like deep thought or disinterest, to a harsh glare, his face set in a scowl. The severity of his features froze you in place, and your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. You stopped walking, which in turn made him pause. He tilted his head, somehow making his face appear even more severe. He took a moment to look you over, though you didn't get the feeling that he was leering. His voice had a tone of boredom to it. "Late working hours?"  
  
His voice startled you, even though he heavily telegraphed that he was going to speak. You swallow the lump in your throat and nod. Your hand touches the metal canister in your bag, but you don't take it out just yet.

He doesn't seem to notice. "Hmph." He grunts in what sounds like approval, but why on Earth would he need to approve your working schedule? "I hope your office appreciates what you do for them. It's not safe to walk around alone at this hour." With that said, he resumes his trip, his eyes sliding closed again, his head bowed, and his expression returning to its semi-dormant state of not-so-scary.

Your legs tremble before you can move them. Once he's gone, you take a big breath in, blowing it out again, as if you could evaporate that anxiety you felt.

It wasn't just that it was a strange man walking at the same time as you. You're accustomed to that. Something about the air around him seemed _big._ You weren't sure how else to think about it. Something in your gut told you that man was larger than life, that he was somehow important, and your body reacted on its own in fear and awe. Who _was_ that? You don't typically have such a visceral reaction to people. Your shyness wasn't so crippling that you couldn't function. 

You're able to finally walk again. Your head was on a swivel and you looked in every direction, ensuring that you were by yourself before you continue to the car park. You do hurry into your vehicle once you lay eyes on it, the telltale blip-blip of the door unlocking when you trigger your key fob _much_ louder than you would have liked. You practically dive into your car and slam the door behind you, locking it promptly and gripping the steering wheel. You stare out the wind shield, focusing your breathing so you can calm down.

Okay. Good.

Once your wits return to you, you feel safe enough to throw the car into gear and head home. You make a firm and conscious decision to _not_ think about the man with the shockingly white hair for the rest of eternity.

/////////////////////////////

A few weeks passed, and you had convinced yourself that what happened between the office and your car was nonsense. You reacted badly because you were tired and his appearance was unusual. You even reprimanded yourself for being so judgmental based on the way he looked, acting afraid, when all he did, upon hindsight, was wish you well. 

What a _great_ impression you must have given that poor man. He probably got reactions like that everywhere he went, and now, you were just another in a long series of people who freaked out upon seeing him.

The thought made you feel a little heavy. You were somewhat ashamed of yourself, but the chances of seeing him again were minor to null. You push the thought of him out of your head, and once again, on a Friday night, you're told you're coming in on a night shift 'to help us get all caught up on paperwork.'  
  
They dumped their crap on you. Again.

You sigh. At least the normal office politics were nonexistent when you were the only one in the building. You're able to open up your mobile phone and listen to the music of your choice while you drone on to get these orders out. _Seriously, how do we get so behind this often?_ At least you wouldn't be bored. 

Luckily, since they recognized how behind the office had gotten sooner than the last time, your shift was over closer to 1:00 AM. The bars would be still open, though there were going to be people on the roads and sidewalks.

You lock up the building and start heading to your car. A few blocks away out of view, you could hear the loud, obnoxious sound of speakers belting out tunes and haphazard karaoke singers drunkenly crooning to each other. You smile and chuckle, once again grateful not to be part of that noisy, embarrassing scene. 

Across the street, you see a familiar shock of white hair, stark and prominent against the darkness. You freeze and stare. Indeed, it's the man from a few weeks ago. He'd stopped walking and was looking at you in the moment you had been smiling. This time, you didn't feel the crippling fear that you did the last time, though you did feel anxious upon seeing him stare. A long moment passes. Neither of you even blinks. Your hand moves without your permission, and you offer a weak wave and a watery smile. "H-, hello," you offer, trying to remember that he was attempting to be kind to you the last time you met like this.

He gives a deep nod, a sort of small bow once you greet him. "Another late night?" He likely assumed because you were wearing business attire, neat and presentable. You nod, and he continues. "Your efforts must be getting you recognized."  
  
You worry your lip, looking down and away. "N-, not really." You hesitate to say too much. He was a stranger and didn't need to hear your problems. You switch gears. "Thanks for the kind words you said the week before." You look over at him again, hoping to steer the conversation away from the fact that you're allowing your coworkers to take advantage of you. "I'm a cog in a machine. That's all. It pays the bills."  
  
The man stared at you, unblinking for a long moment, then hummed and nodded. "A machine without its cogs is a machine that doesn't function. However," he considered you for a moment, "it seems _this_ cog is doing the work of, hmm, five or six other cogs?"

If you hadn't clenched your jaw, it would have hit the floor. You were trying to figure him out. Was he saying your work was important, or that the grind is justified? You couldn't get a read on him because his face gave nothing away. "Sort of," you start, hesitant. "Not five or six _full_ cogs, but, maybe the slack. A few teeth lost in those other cogs, I think."

Another moment passes, then a soft snort that you swear could have been a laugh. Again, his expression never changed. Still, the sound lifted your spirits a little, and you let your lips curl at the corners in a small, modest smile. Upon seeing that, the man's face become somehow gentler and less intimidating. Feeling brave, you ask him, "What's your name? I-I mean, if we keep meeting like this, I should at least know that." Your sentence peters out at the end, your shyness coming through once your brain realized what your voice was doing.

The man turns to face you fully, bending slightly forward in a polite bow. "My name is Karna." He didn't ask for your name, which struck you as odd. Still, you give it to him, making sure to raise your voice a little, remembering that you were trying to converse across a two-lane street. He nods. "So you then plan to be out this late at night again?"

_Man, he gets right to the point, doesn't he?_ You returned to the part of the conversation where you allowed yourself to be trampled upon. Your budding warmth starts to wilt, and you sigh, brought back into the reality of your situation. "Yeah." Your answer was brief and had a slight edge to it. "Next week," you drop the information for him. "At least now, they recognize their need of me," you say in an attempt to console yourself.

"Indeed." Karna, in a show of sensing your irritation, started to close up as well, his expression returning to its resting severity. "Perhaps we will run into each other again." He goes to leave without a word of goodbye.  
  
"That might be nice," you say, your voice small. You noticed his step stuttered a little when you said that, though he didn't turn around to confirm that he heard you. Instead, he raised his hand and waved without so much as a glance back.

/////////////////////////////

12:00 AM. You are getting much better at the work load that's been shoved onto you. You still charge the company for the full time you were scheduled, of course, since you're routinely volunteered without your consent. _Fuck 'em,_ you think, slightly surly because while you did finish early, there was a big, tangled mess of paperwork and contradictions that you had to unravel, adding two full hours onto what would have amounted to a half-day, all because of a mix-up with dates of service.   
  
You know _exactly_ who did it. Mentally, you curse their name, then take in a big, full breath of night air, willing the tension to leave your shoulders and prevent yet another tension headache from creeping in. Of course, it didn't work. Willpower alone would only cause more headache. You grimace, then sigh, sagging a little. At least tonight, the obnoxious singing and music was silenced. 

That allowed you to hear the footsteps of the man who you'd been meeting these nights. Karna appeared down the road, the same side as you this time. Something was different, and you noticed a plastic bag hanging from his wrist, the bag bobbing and rustling as he walked. He stared straight ahead, though you got the distinct impression he was looking directly at you. Upon seeing him, you feel a slight giddiness. It was akin to the fear you felt the first night you met him, but now, it felt more like budding excitement. You had looked forward to bumping into him. It struck you as odd that he always seemed to be nearby after you left work. 

Your face lit up, a smile dawning on your features as he approaches. You stop and offer a bow to greet him. "Good evening, Karna," you say with some formality. 

Karna nods deeply in a pseudo-bow before he makes eye contact with you. "You remembered." Though his face didn't smile, his voice seemed colored with delight. He raised his hand that carried the takeout bag. "Are you hungry?"  
  
You blink slowly, your brain trying to engage. "Uh, yeah!"  
  
"I brought you this." He lifted the bag and settled the box in his hands. "If you would like to join me, we can go wherever you want."

You can't help the deep blush that colors your face, nor the radiant grin that appeared without your permission. "You brought that to share with me?" Your voice wavered a little. You weren't sure what his intent was, bringing you food like this. But his gesture warmed your heart, and made your belly growl. Your blush deepened even further and you lowered your gaze, slightly embarrassed.  
  
"I am happy to share your food with you," he replied, indicating the food was, in fact, bought for you. "Your company is refreshing." The words came so easily to him. You're blown away by how open he is, even if his voice and expression hardly changes from a default setting.  
  
You whimper and duck your head. "You can't just say that!" You're flattered. You're not used to being flattered. It made you feel warm all over. It made you jumpy.   
  
Karna tilted his head. "But it's true."  
  
You shiver lightly. "Okay--! But... I mean... nnngh!" You wriggle on the spot, completely at a loss for how to answer him. You take a deep breath, then sigh. "Okay... okay. I know where we can go to eat." You peek up at him through your eyelashes. "I'd like it if you were there, Karna." You fidget your hands, hoping he agrees.

"Gladly." He left it at that and gave you plenty of time and space to recompose yourself.  
  
You knew about a nice, quiet park bench by a creek that was peaceful, even during the busiest hours of the day. It was your sanctuary whenever you left the office to eat lunch, or if you had to leave your apartment to get some fresh air. Karna follows a half-step behind you, letting you lead, comfortable in the silence between you. He seemed content to be near you. He didn't feel the need to fill the space with small talk.

That fascinated you. In the few conversations you've had with him, he's said around a hundred words. But he didn't meander. He didn't avoid the point. He said what he meant to say with no fluff or preamble. Maybe 'refreshing' was the word, after all. Even though his bluntness is a little off-putting, you have had the time to think on the few things he has said. He means well. He's simply surgical with the way he implements his word usage.

You sit on the bench, the box of food between you. They were foods easily eaten by hand, an assortment of appetizer-type foods that were both easy to transport and easy to eat on the go. You were impressed. Whether or not he meant for the food to be efficient to eat, he still landed on a good idea. You smile at him in earnest. "Thank you for the food."  
  
His eyes brighten a little, and he nods in acknowledgement. You reach into the box to grab a fried cheese stick, and are surprised by how warm the food still is. Even if he bought it right before meeting you, the time that passed would make the appetizers go a little cold by now. You can't think too hard about that. The cheese stick sort of got away from you, and a long string of stretchy, cheesy goodness found itself bridging between the piece you bit off, and the piece still in your hand.  
  
You hear soft laughter and look over to see Karna's ever-so-slight smile on you. You stared and felt like you've just witnessed something rare. You reach up and snap the cheese thread, then pop the rest of it into your mouth, thoroughly chewing and swallowing. _So good!_   
  
While you were distracted with the cheese, Karna had reached in and grabbed a fry, turning it over and examining it before taking a bite. He hummed in satisfaction, apparently pleased by the flavor of the dry fry. _He didn't even dip it in anything._ _Maybe they're seasoned._

You sit together for a while, taking turns snacking from the box, listening to the sound of the creek. After a while, when you begin to slow down and your belly is full, you give a long, sleepy stretch. "I really needed that," you confessed, then winced, the twinge in your shoulders starting to creep up your neck.

"You deserved it," he said in reply. He hands you a napkin to wipe your hands and face, which you gratefully accept and use. "You are working very hard for other people. This is just my way of recognizing that."  
  
You offer him a grateful, but sad smile. "I recognize your recognition," you answer, "and I appreciate the living daylights out of it."

"Living daylights?" Karna looked confused for a second, though context clues led him to the right conclusion. "I've never heard that phrase before."  
  


You giggle lightly and smile at him. "It means, 'a whole, whole lot.'"

"Hmmm." He seemed to take the information in, then nodded, satisfied with your explanation. He looks down at you again and sees your smile. A grunt caught in the back of his throat, and his expression changed to something unreadable. He appeared not to know how to react to somebody smiling at him so brightly. 

Your smile starts to relax. You look down at the box and sigh happily. "We finished it." You toss your used napkin into the box, then gather it up to throw in a nearby trash can. Karna watches you carefully. He seems to be contending with something in his mind. You pretend not to notice, then smile at him again. "Want to walk me to my car?"  
  
Faced with a task, Karna nods with conviction. "I would like that." There he goes with his blunt openness again. You warm again, inside and out, your heart fluttering from the simple phrase that was both an affirmation and, to some extent. a confession. He wanted to spend more time with you.  
  
"Great!" You match his energy, mild though it is. This time, on the way back, you're side by side. He knows the way back to the office, at least, and you have to pass it on the way back to your car. You find yourself walking a little slower than normal, trying to prolong your time in his presence. All of the fear you'd experienced when you first met him was nothing now but a memory. He was kind to you and asked nothing of you but your time. He was thoughtful and eager to share his time with you. 

You were drawn to him. It was a deep draw, the kind one gets when charm and attraction factors are all taken out. Something about Karna resonated with something in you. He's fascinating in all the right ways. From his appearance in that all-black outfit, to his wild, wintery-white hair, to that tired scowl ever-present on his features, all the way to the way he speaks and the things that he says, without qualm or hesitation, truly has you wanting to know more about him and to spend even more of your free time with him.

_And all it took was a little food?_ Your brain supplies you with a reprimand, though it was a weak one. The thought is easily pushed aside and dismissed.   
  
Entirely too soon, you make it to the parking garage. Karna walks you all the way to your vehicle, waiting until you're safely inside before he starts walking away, again without so much as a goodbye. 

Somehow, you were sure you'd see him the next time you worked late. A glance at the car's clock startles you. 4:15 AM. _Wow!_ You throw the car into gear and head home.  
  
The sleep you get that night is sound for the first time in months.

/////////////////////////////

The next time you're asked to work late, you find yourself looking forward to it. You were given plenty of notice, and had a chance to pick up something to do with Karna to thank him for the food he'd given you the last time.

Unfortunately, your hours ran a little later than you'd hoped, and the loud echoes of the bar a few blocks away ruined the quiet you'd hoped would greet you once you left the office building. Still, you didn't let it spoil your whole mood. You felt a warm tingle spread from your chest and a smile grow on your face when you turned to see the familiar, pale appearance of your new friend in the distance. Your hand tightens around the handle of the bag you carry, making sure it was still there. You take a deep breath, then start towards Karna, your pace quickened to a near-jog.   
  
He must have heard your footsteps. He looked up at you, and you swear that you saw a smile appear briefly on that grouchy face, though it was gone just as quickly. You slowed your pace, surprised by his reaction, then resumed your near-jog until you made it to him, wearing a big, bright grin. "Good evening, Karna!" You greet him with a brightness that matches your smile.  
  
He hesitates, seeing your expression so happy. It softens his resting scowl a little, and he seems to relax. "Heh," he breathes out a slight chuckle. "Good evening." His greeting was suitably quiet, though the tone seems hesitant. It felt like, maybe, he wasn't used to people greeting him at all, let alone with such warmth.   
  
You recall your first reaction to seeing him on the sidewalk, and understand why he might be surprised. A slight sting of regret in the bottom of your chest interrupts your excitement, but it's short-lived when the bag in your hand rustles. It brings you back to the present moment, where Karna is looking down upon you with his slightly-less-stern face. You lift the bag up to chest level. "I picked something up for us to do!" You bounce on the balls of your feet, nervous and excited. "I mean, if you have the time." You slow your bouncing. You hadn't even considered he might be busy. Anxiety starts to creep in, and you begin to withdraw again, preparing for possible rejection.  
  
Karna blinks. "Something to do?" He glances at the bag you're carrying. It's thin plastic and does little to hide the contents within. "Are those binoculars?"  
  
You nod quickly. "Mhm! I was thinking we could go back to that park bench from yesterday." You almost abandoned your anxiety simply because he inquired about the contents of the bag instead of saying anything about being preoccupied. Somehow, this guy made you feel fine with being maybe a little bit pushy and selfish. Just enough to ask for what you want.   
  
Right now, you wanted to spend more time with Karna.  
  
He considers you carefully. He's completely unreadable, but he doesn't make you wait. He nods. "I'd like that," he says in a voice that made you warm up inside. It sounded like he wanted to spend time with you, too. The very idea made you so happy you cheered, though quietly, and without much in the way of gesture. Your tiny squeak of a cheer brought another one of those there-and-gone smiles to Karna's face, and you caught it just before it disappeared. Even though it was brief, you felt dazzled.   
  
"Okay!" You beam at him. "Let's go, then!" You turn towards where you'd eaten with Karna the last time.  
  
He kept pace with you this time, standing at your side instead of following just behind. You weren't sure why you felt so on top of the world. You and Karna were acquaintances and had only met a few times, but his nature really meshes with yours, and you can't bring yourself to forget or ignore that. Just like the last time, you and he were comfortable in the silence between you. Neither of you engaged in any small talk, and for that, you continued to be grateful. 

Before long, you found your way to the bench. The sound of the creek was soft and gentle. The ambient noise of distant traffic barely made itself known. Most importantly, the moon was out. It was a waning gibbous moon tonight, so it had been full not a few days ago, but still big and bright enough in the sky that a pair of binoculars should do for the task.  
  
Karna sees you looking around the sky, puzzling out what you had in mind. He scrunches his brows together for a second before he asks, "Wouldn't a telescope work better for stargazing?"  
  
You look over at him, then startle a little bit. You're not quite sure how you hadn't noticed before, but his black clothing wasn't all black. There was some gold pieces to his outerwear. The lighting here made that much easier to see than in a dark parking garage, or on the side of the road, where there was precious little lighting. A moment passes, and he interrupts your staring. "Are you alright?"  
  
You blush instantly and look away, digging into the bag to break out the binoculars. "Yeah. Sorry! I didn't mean to stare. It's just," you grunt as you pull apart the cardboard box, "I didn't notice before. Your clothes, I mean." Your eyes dart over to him, then back to your task, unwrapping the plastic, inspecting the binoculars. "I guess I never saw you in proper lighting before."  
  
Karna's eyes slide shut, then open again, a sigh escaping his lips. "Yes, I hope you don't mind."  
  
"Mind?" You look directly at him again, taken aback by his answer. "Wait. Back up. I didn't mean to imply anything negative. Please. I'm sorry." Your anxiety rises again. You feel like you've insulted him. You cringe, hoping that you were wrong.  
  
He regards you for another moment, then grunts in acceptance. "I must have misunderstood. Thank you," he says.  
  
 _This guy,_ you find yourself thinking, then resist the urge to shake your head in exasperation or disbelief. Refocused on your task, you complete freeing the binoculars from their prison. "Ah! Here we go!" You smile cheerfully, presenting Karna with the device. "I thought we could sit and look at the sky together."

Karna blinks, then gives a tired, gentle smile at your suggestion. "Wonderful," he says, his tone strangely nostalgic. Your heart skips upon seeing and hearing him. He sits on the bench, then looks up at you, expectant, but patient. You remember why you're here, then slide down to the bench beside him. From where you are, the moon is directly ahead, moving across the sky, lighting up the night with its reflection from the sun. You lift the binoculars to your face and adjust the settings until you get a good, clear view of the moon.  
  
Well. As good and clear as you can get from a basic pair of binoculars, anyway.  
  
Satisfied you've found a great setting, you hand him the device, a slight giggle in your words. "Here, look." You point to the moon once he takes the pair from your hands, smiling in fascination. "It looks clearer through those than the naked eye. And yeah, I know, a telescope really would be better, but the ones worth a damn really aren't affordable, so I thought this would be a... good... compromise..." You started to ramble, but then, you see his face. He set the binoculars on his face, and his expression slowly melted into one of wonder and awe. 

"It's breathtaking," he says quietly, looking not only at the moon, but the stars, and even a few stray clouds that happened to pass and block some of the view. "I _never_ thought I'd enjoy the night sky so much," he said with an honesty and vulnerability that wrenched your heart, though you weren't sure why. He took a long, enraptured moment to look around, lingering on a few different constellations, and though the view wasn't sharp or detailed, it was, in fact, better than the naked eye, and he couldn't get enough.  
  
You stared again at him. You feel your heart reaching out to him, and with it, your hand, unbidden, reaches for him. Your fingertips brush gently against his forearm, and he lowers the binoculars to look directly at you, that same look of wonder now aimed at you.  
  
Your heart leapt. You were entranced. His eyes flicked to the device, then to you. "You should see this, too," he said, wanting to share the awe he felt. "Here," he reaches to hand you the binoculars.  
  
You scoot in closer to Karna, accepting them from him, looking in the same places he had. The things you saw bordered on unremarkable, but his energy was contagious. You focused on the moon, where you could see in some detail the craters and ridges, and allowed your own childlike wonder take hold of you. It really _was_ a beautiful sight.   
  
When you go to check in with Karna, you see that he's staring at you in the same way you had been staring at him moments ago. You could feel his piercing blue eyes looking deep into you, searching for and finding that shared awe, and though the levels of enthusiasm were slightly different, he still seemed appreciative of your reactions.

Your cheeks dusted pink when you caught him looking on you with those eyes. It thrilled you to see him that way. Your hand shook a little. You scooted even closer to Karna, handing over the lenses again, but he placed them on the bench on his other side. He continued to stare at you, as though you were a puzzle to figure out, as though he were trying to figure something out or make a decision. You slightly bow your head and close your eyes, feeling something build within you with each passing second he watches you. You feel his fingers close around your hand, then squeeze affectionately. A lump forms in your throat and you look up at him again, eyes wide with a strange anticipation you didn't expect. "This was a perfect view," he said with gratitude in his voice. "Your binoculars worked beautifully. This was a wonderful idea."  
  
You tremble at his words. They wash over you like a warm, welcoming wave, his praise and gratitude lighting you up from the inside. You shift your grip and thread your fingers through his, squeezing his hand. You smile at him, watery though it is, unsure how to handle the onslaught of emotion you're suddenly feeling. "It's my pleasure," your voice manages, though you sound a little afraid.  
  
Karna squeezes your hand again in reply, then looks up at the sky, bare-faced this time, the binoculars forgotten. This time, he wasn't enjoying the view of the heavens. This time, he was basking in the glow of your shared moment.  
  
After a long moment, you get bold and lean over, closing the admittedly short distance between you, and lean on Karna, letting your shoulder rest on his arm and your head rest on his shoulder. Your eyes slide shut, and you feel him tense, then slowly relax. A slight pressure signals his nudge in your direction, his head leaned over to rest on top of yours.

You stay together like that for a long time, though with some slight adjustments to accommodate cramped shoulders. By the time you're ready to go, you're curled up under Karna's arm, resting your head against his chest, his hand settled down somewhere between your elbow and hip. Comfortable silence made its return. Before you knew it, you were drifting to sleep. You let out a sleepy yawn and a big sigh following it. "I guess I better head home before I fall asleep at the wheel," you chuckle, belying your disappointment at having to leave him and go home.

He gives a weak, but displeased grunt in the back of his throat, as though he had begun to fall asleep, as well. He inhaled a slow breath and lifted his arms in a long, catlike stretch, a suitably long, sleepy groan following it. "Then let's get you back to your vehicle," he said, a hint of his own disappointment audible in his tone.  
  
You picked up on it, then smiled and giggled through your tiredness. "I can always come back tomorrow. We don't only have to hang out on days I work late," you suggest.  
  
He stands gracefully from the bench, then grabs the binoculars and offers them to you. "Okay. Meet me here tomorrow, then," he said, his voice colored with the barest hint of excitement, so tiny that you weren't sure if you were imagining it. "After dark?"  
  
"After dark is good," you agreed, taking the device from his hands and placing them back in the bag, along with all the trash that came with separating it from the box and plastic. "So, 8:00? 9:00?"  
  
Karna shrugged. "Either works for me," he confirmed. He wasn't trying to hide that he wanted to see you again. He simply appeared to have difficulty making his wishes known without sounding either wishy-washy or super demanding. You knew exactly the feeling, so knew how to accept his offer as it was meant.  
  
"Great!" You grin broadly up at him, making him blush. Emboldened, you lean up and give him a gentle kiss on the cheek, barely a peck. He freezes in place, rooted to the spot and unwilling to move, in case you pull away. When you do pull back, your grin is still there, though now your own cheeks are colored pink from the rush of having been brave enough to touch Karna in such a familiar way.  
  
He stares openly at you, disbelief clear on his features. He hadn't expected that, but from the look of him, he did appreciate it. He remembered himself, then relaxed, offering a gentle chuckle. "Great."   
  
A slightly awkward silence falls between you. You then realize that you already kissed him, but he still intended to walk you to your car. You rub your face and bite back a squeak, insecurity making its appearance. To hide this, you grab up the bag and overcompensate. "All right! Let's go!" You start walking in the direction of your car, Karna in tow, and on your way past him, you swear you see his shoulders shaking, as though holding back a laugh. His expression remained the same as it always did, however, so you are once again unsure if you imagined it.

The trip to your car was a quick one, your adrenaline surge pushing you forward to hurry and get in so you could drive away from the awkwardness of the situation. Just as last time, Karna stays until you're safely in your car, though before you leave this time, you roll your window down. "Tomorrow night still good?" You wanted to make sure you didn't ruin the plan.  
  
Karna's lips parted, his jaw working. "Yes, of course." He sounded strained. You weren't able to tell if he was forcing himself to say yes, or if he was holding back from being too enthusiastic.  
  
"Good. Tomorrow, then!" Your smile is laced with insecurity, but you still wanted to see him again. At his nod, then wave goodbye, you roll your window up and prepare to drive home.  
  
You hide in your blanket that night, playing the scene in your head over and over again, picking apart every detail, looking at every interaction. Your heart pounds rapidly every time you think about the way he looks at you. Your insecurity morphs to giddiness, and the result is the same. Your sleep is elusive, though your dreams this night are pleasant and warm.

/////////////////////////////

Tomorrow came, and you were not ready.  
  
Your mind took over last night, making you think about Karna in ways that went beyond simply being friendly. You thought about the way he squeezed your hand, about the warmth of his arm draped over you, about the sound of his breathing when you had your head against his chest. You thought about the look on his face when you kissed his cheek, about the delightful color his face turned when you made him blush.  
  
You didn't even settle on an activity when you agreed to meet Karna tonight. You couldn't do the stargazing thing two nights in a row. You guessed you could bring food, but what if the plan was to go out for food? Everywhere will still be open when you meet tonight. Should you dress up? Do you need to put on some fancy makeup? You groan miserably and squirm against all the unanswered questions.

A deep, cleansing breath does bring you back to center, and you think. If you didn't plan anything, then maybe he just wanted to wlak around. If you dressed up fancy, it would be out of place for something like that. You're sure he would have said something if you needed to dress up.  
  
Mind made up, you go with a pale, mid-length skirt with a little fringe, and a dark button-down shirt that had a loose neckline. It was fancier than your work clothing, but not so out of the ordinary that it would look like your car broke down on the way to a high-profile dinner party.  
  
You settle on some tan stockings, and a sensible pair of black flats to finish your look. You check yourself in the mirror, making minor adjustments here and there, and then sigh, a big, nervous smile on your face.   
  
You haven't had a date in a while, unless you counted the last couple times you met with Karna. This time was different, though. This time was planned. The goal was to spend time together, rather than hoping to bump into each other by chance. If you were completely honest with yourself, you looked remarkably cute today, too. You blushed at the thought of Karna's expression upon seeing you like this, instead of in your work clothes.  
  
By habit, you parked in the parking garage beside your workplace. You grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder before leaving your vehicle.  
  
Your steps were hurried. You were so excited to see Karna that you'd left an hour early and arrived at the creek bench at 7:30 PM. Luckily, the place was nearly abandoned, so most of the ambient noise you heard was of the running water, gentle and soothing. You decide, instead of keeping watch for Karna, you'd sit on the bench and enjoy the quiet for a while. You attempted to calm your nerves, hoping that your early appearance wasn't off-putting for Karna. You couldn't help looking around from your seated position every few minutes or so, turning your head at every new sound, no matter how remote the possibility of it signaling his arrival.

You start to drift with your own inner thoughts. You watched the water, listened to the trickling, drawn in by your anxieties as time moved forward.   
  
The sound next to you deadens a little bit, and you look over to see Karna sitting beside you, also looking out at the water. You flick your eyes down to your phone to see the time. 7:54 PM. He was early, too, though not by as much as you. The sight of him made relief wash over you like a warm breeze. He looks down at you, pausing to admire you. He's paralyzed for a brief moment, captured by the look on your face.   
  
  


These moments are starting to work their way into your heart. The way he looks at you is the same as every time he looks at you. That admiration at first was odd and alien to you, but since you've had time to process it, you've come to appreciate it when his eyes linger on your features. Your smile warms, and he's brought back to the present, clearing his throat and trying again. "Sorry if I kept you waiting."  
  
You giggle, still riding that wave of relief. "No, no. We said between 8:00 and 9:00. You couldn't have known I'd be here _this_ early." You waved a dismissive hand to wave away his apology.  
  
"'This long?'" He tilts his head. "How long have you been here?"  
  
"Oh, uh," you look down at your lap, clasping your hands together to get a grip of something. "I got here almost a half hour ago," you admit, your tone slightly sheepish. "I just," you look up at him, eyes wide, your heart hammering in your chest from your impending admission. "I was really excited to see you."

You see the subtle shift in his expression. His lips moved together, barely noticeable, but you had been looking him in the face. His micro-expressions showed you that he was touched, somehow, by your words. He stops fighting himself and sighs, bowing his head and closing his eyes. When he opens them again, his head is still bowed, and he watches you from under his messy hair. "Me, too." He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable with admitting his apprehension to you. "I like being around you," he says with more control in his voice, the tension gone, now that he's broken the seal on the things he was holding back.  
  
Your face flushes and your heart sings. You're unsure how quickly things have been moving between you, but hearing him say he enjoyed your company put to rest any ideas of insecurity. Your smile was open and genuine. "So, um," you start, still a little shy. "What did you have in mind for tonight?" You bite your lower lip in an attempt to curb your excitement, but your actions and expression affect Karna in a way that makes his expression darken for less than a second. That brief glimpse of an expression sent a shock through you, and you _liked_ it. You let go of your lower lip, then sigh, staring up at him, your brows angled down in a pouty scowl.   
  
He crossed his arms over his chest and shut his eyes, humming in deep thought. He cracked his eye open and looked at you. "How about a walk?" He gestures in the general direction of the parking garage. "I can show you the loop I walk around every night," he offers.

"Hmmm," you make a show of considering his offer, though your brain was brow-beating you into saying 'yes' right away. Playing hard to get didn't feel right to you. You smile shyly and nod. "Okay."  
  
Karna grunts an affirmation, then stands from the bench. He reaches out to you, offering his hand to hep you stand. You reach out without hesitation. The second your hand makes contact with his, your heart swells. He easily pulls you from sitting to standing, making sure you're upright and steady before you walk. He starts to pull back from you, hesitating in his movements, and when you squeeze his hand in reassurance, he relaxes. He seems content to hold your hand. 

You felt silly, like a middle school kid getting to hold hands with her crush. You're a woman grown, but this man made you feel a certain way that harkened back to the good parts of middle school and the intensity with which you experienced attraction. You listened this time, because on your walk together, he was oddly talkative. He discussed what he liked about the route, about how his path moved between the busier parts of the town, so he was near everything, but away from the people. The path included a side road that ran past the karaoke bar you always heard but never saw. It was a dump. But people inside were having fun.   
  
Your walk continued, and Karna brought you past the diner where he got the appetizer platter that he shared with you. It was a nice place, not too elaborate, and the smells coming out of the place were heavenly. Your lips curl up in a small smile, remembering that night a few weeks ago. When you really thought about it, he was the first person in a long time to show you any sort of appreciation, and he did it seemingly on a whim. Like he was making up for other peoples' shortcomings. You felt like something was piecing itself together in your head, and your walk with Karna continued.  
  
The next stop was one you recognized. It's the road that goes past your workplace and the car park. Your chest squeezes at the idea that your date with Karna may end here and now. Your distress showed itself on your face, and Karna's look became one of concern. He stopped and turned you to face him, standing in the middle of the sidewalk together. "Are you alright?"  
  
You fidget nervously. You were overwhelmingly attracted to Karna, but you didn't know how to tell him. He knew you enjoyed his company, but you wanted more than hand-holding. You remember the feeling of his skin on your lips, how smooth and warm it had been. Your nerves were jumpy and a pressure started building in your chest and abdomen. You managed to look him in the eye, acutely aware of his hands resting on your shoulders as he looked down at you. The color in your cheeks and the look in your eyes sent a dawning realization on Karna's face. You wordlessly read each others' expressions, slowly trading them, realization on your face and nervous excitement on his, though his was more or less well hidden behind a perpetual scowl. It was in the way he breathed, and how his eyebrows set, eyes darting back and forth between your right and left eye, unsure which one to focus on, unsure how to proceed.  
  
You reach up and gently touch your fingertips to his chest. You were surprised how warm he was, especially in the night air. You watched his face for hesitation, moving to follow your hands, bending at the elbow and leaning against him, closing your eyes and laying your head against his chest. You feel him tense, then relax, his arms moving loosely around you. He's as unsure as you are, but you sense a willingness in the way he's reacting to you. You sigh contentedly. "I can't say this when I'm looking at you," you explain, your face red as a tomato. You want to hear him acknowledge, and you feel him move as though he nodded. You chew your lip again, your brow knit together with effort to make the words go. "Karna, I... I'm really attracted to you," you confess, your voice small, but sure. "And I just," you gently scratch at his chest with your fingernails, "I don't know what I want to do about it."  
  
Karna's breathing is even and slow while he listens to you speak. He appears to take your confession and lend it the gravity it deserves, rather than freaking out or freezing up like a middle school kid. He leans his head back, trying to look at you without stepping away. You finally muster up the nerve to look up at him, giving him the most adorably flustered face he's seen in a long time. He reaches up and smooths your hair down, his fingertips tracing down from behind your ear to along your jawline. Your eyes widen upon seeing his expression. You saw warmth and care in the way he looked at you. Behind that, you also saw growing desire, though for what, you could hazard an educated guess. You trembled in his arms, your nerves jumpy all over again. You were nervous and excited, yes, but there was also a growing need within you, a curiosity and arousal competing for dominance in your expression. 

Karna moved slowly, leaning in, pressing his lips to your forehead, lingering there for a long moment. Your eyes slid shut and your body shook, shockwaves rolling through your system. He moved to press another gentle kiss to your temple, then your cheek. You felt his breath on your cheek, then peeked out from under your eyelashes to see him hovering, his eyes half-open, his face close to yours. He wanted to kiss your lips, but he hesitated. You could see he was fighting himself, though for what reason you couldn't know. Your eyes open, watching him and waiting. You nod, a quick, barely-noticeable motion of your head, but he saw it. You watched as his eyes closed and his head tilted just a little.   
  
His mouth was warm and inviting. Your heart practically vibrated right out of your chest. Your eyes eased shut again and your hands moved up Karna's shoulders to rest your arms around his neck. This kiss was long and slow, gentle and experimental, your lips molding to each other. His hold on you tightened and drew you more firmly against him. You rocked back and forth together, though your kiss never deepened, nor got more heated. It stayed gentle and warm.  
  
You mewl softly against his mouth, and he hums in reply before he pulls back to look at you. He looked exactly like you felt. His pupils were dilated. His lips were parted. His expression was at once one of awe and uncertainty. Seeing him like this turned you on so much it startled you. Your shared actions have told you all you need to know about whether or not he was into you. He wasn't simply being friendly. There was more to it.  
  
Your lips move to speak, though your voice won't come through right away. "Uhm," you test your vocal cords, "Karna?"  
  
Hearing his name said in such a way made Karna hold his breath. You saw his Adam's apple bob up and down as he gulped. He watched you, but didn't trust himself to speak.  
  
Your tongue darted out over your lips. You wanted to think straight for the next thing you had to say. You eased away from him, though not enough to have to break his hold on you. The moment you push back, your body screams at you to go back in, and it makes you grit your teeth. The effect he had on you was abundantly clear. You wanted him, and you wouldn't be able to think straight if you let him go now.  
  
But you wouldn't force him. Besides, you were still pretty shy. You look down and away, steeling yourself against possible rejection. You take in a sharp breath and look up at him, your eyes wide and afraid. "Would you like to come home with me?"  
  
Karna's brow set in a line and he grit his teeth, apparently assaulted by the same kind of wave of need you experienced. He caressed the side of your face with tenderness that wasn't a lie, but a precursor to the feelings he's developing for you. He studies your face, wanting to be sure, not wanting to make a mistake. He brushes his thumb across your lower lip, and you shiver in delight, your eyes darkening with arousal. He curled his index finger under your chin and gently lifted your gaze to him. When he was certain you were serious, and not somehow trying to make up for some imagined debt, he let himself blink slowly, then nodded deeply. "Nothing could make me happier," he said, his voice with a hint of huskiness.  
  
"Then," you squirm a little bit, your nerves alight with anticipation, "can we go now?"  
  
That earns you an unexpected, kind chuckle from Karna, a sound you didn't expect; a sound that set your face aflame all over again. He touches his lips to yours again, a chaste, restrained, but warm gesture. "Yes. We can go now."

/////////////////////////////

You brought Karna immediately to your apartment. The ride in the car was excruciating. It wasn't far to drive at all, but you felt every single fiber of your being reaching for Karna, wanting to touch him and be touched by him. You may have broken a few traffic laws to make it to your apartment in a fair amount of time, but even a minute was too long to wait. Few people who ever crossed your path ever made you feel like this, and usually those people were fictional. Yet, here Karna was, not only real, but eager.  
  
He wanted you as badly as you wanted him.  
  
But like you, he was reserved, hesitant, bashful. Shy.  
  
Somehow, against all odds, you two had made it to this point in the span of a couple of months. As quiet as you both were, that happenstance meeting near the parking garage somehow led to this.  
  
You lie on the bed, still fully clothed, waiting for him to climb in with you. He was looking down on you, appreciating the way that you looked and the eagerness with which you invited him, though the eagerness was colored with a giddy nervousness that you couldn't escape.  
  
Frankly, you wouldn't want to. Something about this rush of anxiety amplified your response to him. Somehow, your uncertainty added heat to the moment for you, and you _loved_ it. When Karna took hold of your hand and knelt on the bed beside you, your heart leapt and pounded. Feeling the mattress dip when his body moved over the top of yours sent a thrill through you that you wouldn't trade for all the confidence in the world. And, when Karna carefully laid down on you, he was gentle and reverent.

He took extra care to make sure you were comfortable as he settled against you, his body pressed to yours, though he propped up on his elbows to look down at you. He stroked your hair and looked into your eyes, his desire for you slowly overtaking his reservation. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours, this time letting his lips be parted before making contact. You follow his lead, your lips moving together in slow, rhythmic motions. Your hands ran down his back, then up again, feeling him breathe and move. His tongue touches yours as the kiss deepens and your reactions become more inviting. You whimper at the contact, squirming against him, shuddering from just that little bit of extra heat. Each new pass of your lips brings you deeper into his kiss, and before long, your hands were in his hair, holding on while your tongues pressed together,.  
  
He tried to hum into the kiss, but it came out as a growl, a sound that vibrated his chest and sent a shock straight to your core. You break off the kiss and gasp for breath, a small moan escaping your lips from the overwhelming emotions rampaging through you. "Karna," your voice is barely above a whisper, "please...!" You weren't quite sure what you were begging for more. More kisses? More attention? You needed _something_ , and weren't entirely sure, yourself what it was. You just knew you wanted more of _him._

His groan is barely audible, but you feel him shudder over you, hear his breath come in shaking puffs. He leans his head down and whispers your name in your ear, nuzzling it with his nose, touching the lobe with the edge of his tongue in a light, teasing manner. "You're amazing," he breathes out, pressing his face to your neck, seemingly unwilling to look you in the eye while he's talking to you in this way.   
  
"I... want more," you admit in an uncharacteristically sultry tone. Karna sighed hotly against your neck, and his weight shifted. You feel his hand move down your side, his fingers touching your ribs and waist, then your hip and outer thigh. You whimper and squirm some more when his fingers start their trail back up, catching the fabric of your skirt and dragging it along, his touch against your bare skin electrifying you.   
  
He grunts in frustration, rearing his head up and bringing that hand up to his face. You watch in fascination as he takes the fingers of his glove between his teeth and rips the glove off, tossing it aside. He then looks you directly in the eye, resuming his hand's travel up your bare thigh, now able to feel your skin with his instead of through an infernal glove. Strangely, a muted, metallic clang accompanied the discarded cloth.   
  
You couldn't be bothered to care about that puzzle. Karna's hand made it all the way up to your bare hip, his fingers playing with the band of your panties. His breathing was steady, but not without effort. He let his fingertips curl around the waistband, then he asked a question with his expression and paused all movement until he got his answer.  
  
You nod eagerly, your eyes half-lidded and your breathing just shy of a pant. You feel his weight lifting off of you at the same time the fabric of your panties moved down past Karna's reach. He watched your eyes, careful to make sure he didn't look directly on your crotch, leaving your skirt in place so it could cover your modesty, even though he just finished removing the cloth, the cottony fabric set aside nearby.   
  
You looked at one another for a long moment, both painfully aware of the nakedness you had now under your skirt. It hardly mattered now that you still wore everything except for your underwear. He looked like he still wrestled with something in his mind, though he settled on something and sighed, seeming resigned. "Please, close your eyes," he requests, his voice quavering a little.  
  
You obey, covering your eyes with your forearm so you didn't peek. Anticipation thundered inside of you, different welcomed lewd thoughts prominent in your mind. You squeezed your thighs together and shivered, already desperate for his touch again.  
  
"Okay. You may look, now."  
  
When you let your arm fall from your face, the sight before you made you fall silent. A brilliant, bright red stone lie in the middle of Karna's chest. It looked almost warm. You stared in wonder, then looked up at his face, amazed by the sight of him shirtless. "Wow," you breathe out, unsure of what else to say or how else to convey your thoughts.  
  
Karna smiled, relieved. He was clearly worried about showing you what you assumed to be some sort of massive piercing. But none of that mattered to you. This was Karna. He could have a Jacob's ladder, for all you cared. You'd still want him to be here with you.  
  
He was kind enough to rid himself of all of his upper body clothing, revealing his sculpted, pale form. You noticed a burnished gold codpiece at the front of his pants, and you blush furiously at the fact that you were openly staring at him like that. You sucked your lips into your mouth and bit them to keep from whining. He notices your gaze and holds still, though you see his face color with a light blush. He sinks to his knees, moving to remove your stockings. You look down at him, propped up on your elbows, watching him intently. He watched your face the entire time, his hands sliding the garment down one leg. It bunched around the ankle, then came off of your foot with an extra pull. He repeated the action with your other leg, once again his eyes staying on your face. It felt like he was not looking under your skirt on purpose. You were unsure if he was being respectful, or saving the best part for last.  
  
You sit up once he's done with your socks, looking down at him with a breathless smile. You reach up and undo one of the buttons on your blouse. You see him tense and freeze, unmoving from his position knelt before you. You undo another button, watching his eyes carefully. They haven't left yours yet. A third button, and you've reached your bustline, your bra peeking through the opening of your blouse. Karna shudders, his brow drawn, willing his eyes to stay on target. You giggle at him, then undo the fourth button. Then the fifth, all the way down until all you or he would need to do to bare you to him is open the front of your blouse.  
  
You reach out to him, your hand moving to the back of his head, pulling him along and bringing his face down on your still-covered chest. His hands move around to your back, shaking though they were. When he felt your face buried into his hair, he sighed, a long, low sound, nuzzling his face against your bosom. You stroked his hair and encouraged him to keep going. His fingers drew patterns against the fabric on your back, making you shiver delightfully. You offer your own sigh, short and soft, your breath spanning over his scalp. He managed to nuzzle the fabric of your blouse to the side enough that the side of his face touched the flesh of your breast, his warmth heating you up way more than it should. You clutched at him, bit your lip and whimpered at the contact. Your hips made a circle and pressed your butt into the mattress.  
  
Your movements seemed to activate Karna, and he got bold, moving to experimentally kiss the line of your bra, half of his mouth on your bra, half of it on your skin. The soft moan that issued from your throat drove him, and his tongue smoothed over your skin. A jolt shot through your body and heated up your core, making you gasp softly and mewl again. Karna's hands having found their way under your blouse with the new slack opening the front of it has given him. You tilt your head back and whimper, allowing yourself to be taken by the moment, the torrent of a million little pleasures washing over you.   
  
Your bra loosens. Karna found the clasp and undid it, though the arm loops trapped under the blouse would pose a problem for removal. He didn't seem to mind, content for now to lavish your skin with gentle licks and warm, open-mouthed kisses.  
  
You're loath to pull away from his heavenly attentions, but you do. You lean back, just enough to slide your arms ouf ot your blouse and let the fabric fall to the mattress behind you. You then gather your bra in front of you, the arm loops falling down to the crook in your elbows. Even though he'd been very close to you the whole time, part of you was still bashful over removing your bra and showing your bare breasts to him. You worry your lower lip and look at him, finding him watching you, intent on following your lead. He waited patiently, busying his hands by smoothing them down your thighs, stroking them over your skirt.   
  
You decide on a tease approach. You cover your breasts with one forearm, loosing the other arm from the arm loop of your bra. You then offer your free hand to Karna, who closes his eyes, takes your hand and kisses it fervently, like you had given him a lifeline. Your breath caught in your throat, watching him pour all of that affection into just your hand. It made your skin tingle all over. How would that feel on your lips? How would it feel on your bared chest? How would it feel...  
  
His eyes open again and he looks at you, his desires now clear as day with that one look. You're once again overwhelmed by your senses and your imagination and your other arm drops,the cups of your bra haphazardly falling into your lap, then off to the side, discarded.   
  
Karna acted quickly, standing from his kneeling position and pushing you to the mattress, using a kiss to do it. He continued his attentions from your hand on your mouth, pouring all of his lust for you into it. Your hands fly up, fingertips finding purchase on his back. He groans against your mouth, energized by the skin-on-skin contact he gets with you. To your surprise, the stone in his chest doesn't hurt you. In fact, to you, it felt pleasant, smooth and warm. You answer his groan with your own, matching him with every stroke of his tongue, every bodily gyration, every sound.   
  
One particularly skilled movement on his part grinds his codpiece against your core, forcing you to rip free of the kiss and gasp sharply. Karna bows his head against your shoulder, panting softly from the effort and emotion in the moment. You give a lewd, but quiet moan, which reaches his ears, because he repeats the motion, pressing his hips against yours, grinding against you, though gently. You whimper and shudder, your legs spreading wider, your body thirsty for more contact, more movements.  
  
Karna pushes himself up, presses his lips to yours in a short, but heated kiss, then sinks down, sliding down your body, leaving hot, wet kisses to your skin on his way down. He lingers at your breasts, giving them thorough and rapt attention. Every touch was gentle. Every stroke of his tongue was generous. When he closes his lips around your nipple, you writhe under him, whimpering breathlessly. While his mouth works at your breasts, the hand not supporting his weight slides down your side, caressing your skin, but also looking for the zip on the side of your skirt. He finds it while you're distracted and moved to open-mouthed panting from the sensations you feel and your imagination running wild.   
  
He finally moves again, drawing a warm, slick trail with his lips and tongue down your belly, stopping briefly to press his tongue to your belly button. The sensation surprised you, and you yelp and jerk, unsure if you felt tickled or something else. Your back arches and you buck against the alien feeling, gritting your teeth and fighting to keep yourself under some sort of control.

You feel something slide down your legs, then off your body. You're now entirely bare to Karna, his for the taking.   
  
But there is a lack of contact now. After he stripped you, he hadn't touched you. You open your eyes, prop yourself up to look around to try and see what's going on.   
  
Karna stands at the edge of your bed, facing away from you. He had leaned down, apparently sliding off his own clothing, that weird, muffled metallic sound present when he tosses it away. He really was that pale, head to toe. He was lithe and muscular, every inch of him a feast for your eyes. When he looked over his shoulder at you, he turned broadside to you, giving you an even fuller view of his tone and definition.  
  
You did your best to look at his face, watching his eyes, but your gaze flicks downward, unable to help yourself. Your core tenses even with glimpses of his naked body. The thought of him pressed against you this time made you melt into the mattress. He was hard as stone. You cross your legs and squirm, looking up at him through hooded eyes. Your innocence drifted away. You could smell your own wetness, and you could see that you had an effect on him. "Karna," you sigh his name, "please, touch me some more." Your tone was a question, but your expression was lewd. You wanted his hands all over you. You wanted him to taste you.   
  
Your message landed hard. Karna's cock leapt upon hearing your voice, and his eyes turned hooded, preparing to succumb to his desires. He took slow steps and rounded the edge of the bed, moving to sit down next to you. You wait a second, then pull yourself up to stand on your knees, draping your naked form over Karna's, your breasts to his back, your arms dangling down his front and your face nestled next to his ear. You speak to him again, "Karna, please. I _need_ you." Your voice breaks in a slight whine, your voice quavering from the sheer force of your need.   
  
You yelp and giggle, suddenly in his arms and sitting sideways in his lap. He kisses you again, keeping you in place and grinding his cock up against you. It's completely ineffectual for you, but his length presses against your butt and hip, giving him friction. He shudders and growls, and the force of his cock pressed to your skin made you cry out, a lewd, slutty sound that forced your lips apart from his. It didn't pleasure you, but it thrilled you, because you knew, that cock was going inside of you tonight, and your core was _starving_ for him.   
  
He's panting. He moves to make you straddle his hips, but instead of guiding you down onto his waiting cock, he lies back, gripping your thighs and pulling you along. He eases you forward on him until your knees are on either side of his face. He has abandoned propriety in favor of staring openly at your dripping cunt. Seeing him down there like that made a blush break out all over your body. You cover your face, embarrassed by the compromising position you're in.   
  
Then, his tongue slides along your folds.

  
You inhale a sharp breath through your teeth, your hands falling to your thighs and your head tilting up. His hands were on your back, stroking all the way from your shoulder blades, to the round of your ass, then up again. He dove in hungrily, nuzzling his face into your crotch, made drunk by your taste and scent. For all the patience and care he showed you before, he cut loose here, mouthing and tonguing your cunt and your clit. Your cries and moans of pleasure drive him, and you can feel his body writhing beneath you, his hips thrusting slightly, though without anything to thrust against or into. 

In a fit of clarity, you lean back, giving him time to adjust his hold, his hands now moving to your front, roaming over your belly and chest. You bend back far enough to reach behind you and touch the skin of his shaft. He grunts against you, though his writhng stops momentarily. You feel his tongue rapidly strike your clit, his breath caressing your sensitive bud, making you keen and shiver. Your hand finds his cock, now fully wrapped around it, and you stroke him experimentally. The weight of him, the temperature of his skin, even the way it pulsed in your hand on your touch made your thighs quake. You brush the tip of your fingers against the tip of him, and you hear him groan roughly, his body redoubling the efforts to writhe, thrusting now into your hand instead of the open air.

The power you felt in his thrust made your heart stutter and your breath lock up. A familiar feeling charges forward in you, and you yelp. "Wait! No, no, no, no, Karna, hang on!" You pant shamelessly, but are relieved when he stops moving, his body tense, but his movements stopping. His head drops to the mattress again, his breath ragged.   
  
Karna groans your name from underneath you. Your body starts to ache with lack of fulfillment, but you didn't want to orgasm on his face. The very thought of it mortified you. After a few seconds of calming down, you sit back up again, moving off of him, looking down at him with hazy, lustful eyes. He looked up at you, his mouth open as he tries to catch his breath. "Why did you want me to stop?" He seemed concerned and confused.  
  
A bolt of heat shot through your veins, and you began to wonder, yourself why you would make him stop licking you. Even though you didn't want to drench his face in your juices consciously, your nerves were screaming at you for making him quit before you could cum. You speak between breaths, "I just want... to cum with.. your cock in me..." your eyes are set in a slight glare, unable to ignore the rampaging torrent inside of you.   
  
He groans in response, possibly the most sexual noise you've ever heard him make. "What are you doing to me," he says as a statement instead of a question. He then rolls over on top of you, bringing you back to the mattress beneath him. His front is flush and lined u with yours perfectly, and the look he gives you makes you want to cum instantly. Karna has a hold of your wrists, holding them up above your head as he kisses you, returning to the slow, gentle caress from before. He takes his time, lulling you into the moment, the entire time, his cock getting soaked in your wetness, sinking slowly between your folds, pressed gently against your entrance.  
  
He continues to kiss you, his free hand coming up to caress your cheek, his body weight pressing fully down on yours now. It's a pleasant feeling, being pinned like this. The head of his cock penetrates through your entrance, making you squeak, making himself shudder and moan. You can't possibly spread your knees any further apart, your legs finding themselves wrapped around Karna's waist, urging him further in.  
  
Another, slightly stronger thrust forward on his part forces your lips apart again with your desperate gasp and his ragged groan. He releases your wrists and smooths your hair down again using his newly freed hand. It's like he tried to anchor himself to the moment, looking down on your face, though your eyes were screwed shut and your mouth hung open in a mostly-silent 'O.' He curses softly under his breath and nuzzles his face against your neck, pressing forward, filling you up.   
  
You whimper pitifully in his hold, the mounting pleasure already approaching its peak. You couldn't even _move_ without some part of your overstimulated body sending shocks through your system. You were on the edge already, so close you could feel your cunt constrict. Karna gasps and clutches you, his eyes shut against the pleasure your body gives him. He can't help but move, his hips flexing and relaxing, micro-movement versions of full strokes making his body grind against your clit, stimulating you not only from the outside, but from the inside, his cock grinding into you, gentle though it was, pitching you far over the edge.   
  
You convulse under Karna, your hands grasping for him, your open-mouthed panting and uncontrollable shuddering making Karna grit his teeth and weather your storm. Your core fluttered against his cock, squeezing and milking him, though he hadn't cum yet.  
  
Karna pants against your neck, his hot breath reminding you that it wasn't over. His hands gathered under you, kneading the flesh of your ass as he grinds into you, this time with much greeter strength. He shakes with the effort, latching his lips to your neck. Your eyes are rolled back in your head, your used and sensitive body responding to his as though you were having one very long, continuous orgasm, your cries softening, but still flowing freely from your lips.   
  
Through the symphony of cries and breaths between you, you can hear Karna beginning to unravel. Every few thrusts into you, he offers another groan, rising in volume each time, from barely audible, to defined, hot cries of his own. The sounds he made, paired with the grip he had on you and the single-mindedness with which he ground into you overloaded your senses. You let loose a series of high-pitched cries, clamping your thighs against Karna, your legs wrapped around him and locking him in place as you climax a second time, howling his name in a piercing cry.  
  
Karna gasps when you lock him in place. He groans roughly and presses his forehead to your temple. You managed a peek and saw his brows turned up and bunched, his expression contorted with pleasure in the last seconds before he came. He frees one of his hands and brings it up to hold the back of your neck, clutching you to him as he thrusts into you with no trace of self-control. Warm seed is shot deep into you. You can feel his cock pulse in time with the convulsions of his body, his arms pulling you to him as though he were trying to climb you. Your cries join his in pitch and volume, a crescendo of ecstasy that lasted for an eternity.  
  
Karna manages to plant his elbows so he doesn't crush you, but he shudders, covering every inch of your skin he can reach with kisses, murmuring to you in exultation. You whimper pathetically under him at his words, some of which you heard and understood, others you could _feel_ the meaning to, though you didn't understand them. You wake up to the fact that his lips peppered your skin with gentle kisses, and you moved to repay the favor, making him lean up to kiss your lips over and over again.  
  
Neither of you wanted to separate from the other. Instead, you spent the rest of the night in each others' arms, exchanging gentle kisses, soft promises, and soothing caresses.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you kindly for waiting for this installation of Fuyuki Nights! I hope your patience is sufficiently rewarded with this entry. I'm afraid I don't know Karna very well beyond Fate/Apocrypha, so I did my best. xD Either way, I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks again for waiting. You know who you are. :3


	5. Rider (Iskandar) x Male Reader (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've gotten to know Iskandar through game nights at the shop. Now, he wants to get to know you better.

It's a Saturday night and the local games shop has its general purpose room open to try out board games before you buy them.   
  
The place was pretty nice. They had a cooler and a coffee bar, complete with a barista in case somebody wanted to caffeinate. It made prolonged games possible, especially since the shop stayed open into the dark hours of the morning. The local pizza place delivered, too, which meant the customers didn't have to rely on packaged snacks to survive the night.  
  
One thing of late was a man who came around regularly to play games of strategy. He was a giant, nearly seven feet tall, a head above nearly everyone else at the place. Not only was he tall, but he was _built._ He looked like he could bench press a tree trunk, flip it around, rest it on his shoulders and do squats with it. But as big as he was, he also had a sense of humor, and a genuine love of people. At least, that's what you've noticed about him.  
  
He'd called himself Iskandar. He'd joined you and your cohorts for games that would last until the staff kicked you out, and then you all would go somewhere to discuss the games as if they were still happening. The man was a genius strategist. He made an art not only of working the pieces on the board, but of distracting the other players with his boisterous laughter and penchant for stories. You noticed that when he would talk about a tale that involved one method to victory, he'd be using a completely different tactic. Then, when people caught on, he would tell a story and use exactly the strategy that tale employed.  
  
In a word, he was predictably unpredictable.  
  
Tonight, you were taken out at the knees by none other. You'd played Risk tonight, and your strategy when having to start on New Guinea was to build up your forces to invade. That had caught Iskandar's eye. You had even drawn his attention away from his usual method of distraction, which split his attention and drew his focus away from the other players, who saw the opening and tried to take him out. However, once he destroyed you and took your cards, he had what he needed to defeat the other players, thanks in no small part to the excellent cards you had in your hand at the time of your defeat.  
  
Even in his victory, Iskandar had nothing but good-natured grins and praise for you, the conquered. He clapped you on the back and laughed that big, booming belly laugh. You can't help but grin, until you realize his hand stayed. When you look over at him to find out what's going on, you see him looking at you, still smiling, but with a look of interest and approval. "You have what it takes to be an excellent tactician, you know," he says in a voice much quieter and more serious than you're used to hearing.  
  
"Oh, uh, really?" Your skin prickles. _Are those goosebumps?_ "I, uh, I mean, all I did was play the hand I was dealt. It's all random."  
  
He took his hand from you and laughed again, this time uproarious, and threw his head back as his body shook. He clapped that hand against his own leg and grinned at you so widely you thought his face might split. He sighed heavily and wiped his eyes before he looked at you again. "That's life, you know. Always throwing curveballs. Always dishing out randomness. The key is in what you do with the hand you're dealt."  
  
You snort. "Fat lot of good that did me," you grouse, gesturing to the board and all of Iskandar's winnings. "Or them, for that matter." You point to your cohorts' empty seats. They had gotten up to grab food.  
  
"Mmm." Iskandar nods deeply and rests his chin in his hand, eyes closed. "That's the trouble, too. There's always someone better than you at what you do, no matter your cards, strategy, or luck."  
  
"Pffff," you purse your lips and blow out before laughing again. "Then what's the point? Is Risk an allegory for life now?"  
  
"Aren't all games?" Iskandar raises an eyebrow at you, tilting his head slightly away, crossing his arms over his chest.   
  
You open your mouth to retort, but find yourself unable to refute his point. Yeah. Most games did have some root in how life works, though sometimes all it means is that luck sucks sometimes and you have to put up with stupid crap. "Huh." You stare at the board some more, then nod. "All right, fine. I accept your premise," you concede his point while pretending you're an authority on the subject.  
  
When you look over at him again, you see him watching you, considering you. Something about the look in his eye made your skin prickle all over again, and you feel a blush rising in your cheeks. You press your lips together in a firm line, willing the heat to die down. When the heat in your face rises anyway, you see Iskandar's smile go from genial to the beginnings of mischievous. _Wait. Is he...?_  
  
Mercifully, your friends return with snacks and drinks, breaking whatever _that_ was before the color could deepen too much. You gratefully accept a cold bottle of sports drink, crack it open, and gulp down the entire thing without a pause or a breath.  
  
Your friends laugh. "Damn, man, you must be thirsty!"  
  
You cough at the comment. "I'm sorry, what?" You wipe your mouth, looking nervously at your friend.  
  
"Uh. Y-, um," he looks back and forth between you, flustered for no apparent reason, and Iskandar, whose smirk was on full display. Something flashes in his eyes before he waves a hand in front of his face, dismissing the question. "Nah, forget it," he grins at you. "Need another?"  
  
"No thanks, I'm good," you shoot him a look. _He better not make jokes,_ you inwardly groan. Most of the people who came into contact with Iskandar ended up attracted to him. It was natural. He was charismatic. He was friendly. He was unapologetically Iskandar, the man who indulged in whatever he pleased. Drinks, food, games, men, women, experiences, anything that drew his attention, really. You'd done your best to avoid being attracted like the rest, but he was magnetic.  
  
So you settled for the next best thing: Denial. It's not that you had any real aversions to Iskandar, himself. You just didn't want to have him disappear from the game shop after you hook up. However, in the last few weeks, rumors circulated about the way he treats his trysts. He's still the same kind, outgoing, indulgent man afterwards as he is before. If anyone else acted the way he did, they'd be labeled a greedy ass hat and anyone who even peripherally knew him would stay away. But this was Iskandar. He treated everyone around him well, so long as they didn't do anything to lose that privilege. As a result, everyone who came around the game shop generally gave him a pass, and many admired him.  
  
That fact is part of why the man made you blush tonight. You're warming up to the idea of having a fling with Iskandar, since you're all but certain he'd still treat you the same. He wouldn't disappear from the group.   
  
The problem now is, it's become like a game. Out of everyone in the store, the staff, the regulars, and even the semi-regulars, you were among the last who enjoyed sleeping with men that hadn't gone to bed with him. It was a point of pride for a while. You had risen above your base desires and rescued yourself from humiliation.   
  
But then, you observed. You watched and listened. Anyone who would talk about it within earshot had high praise for the man's skill and his character. You began to suspect that what you really rescued yourself from was a great time with an authentic person.

_Damn._

You looked down at the Risk board again, as if the pieces could tell you the answer to the amorphous question you were trying to ask. Your friends were talking about the next week, when you were due to meet back here for another open board game night, and you absentmindedly agreed with whatever they said. Afterward, they said their goodbyes, and took off before the game was picked up. The bell on the door jingled, and you snapped out of it. "Hey! You assholes are going to make me clean this up!?" But it was too late. They were long gone and if they could hear you, they didn't answer.  
  
 _Jerks._  
  
Iskandar let out a big, satisfied sigh, clapped his hands against his knees, leaned forward, and started gathering the game pieces to put away. "Normally, I'd make the loser clean up, but they left you hangin'." Iskandar gave a big, cheerful grin. "You can pay me back by cleaning up when you defeat me."  
  
You hesitate, watching him work to organize the pieces. You're slow to react, but once you do, you and he make short work of the mess that your friends left you to handle. The box top slid over the box easily, all the pieces and the board neatly tucked into their proper places. "Uh," you start, quiet and unsure. "Thanks, Iskandar," you nod in his direction.  
  
"You're welcome!" He patted your knee, but instead of removing his hand, he rested it there until you looked at him again. You hold your breath, heat spiking through your limbs. You look him in the eye and find him quite close to you. Your breath hitches in your throat and your palms start to sweat. Iskandar speaks again, this time in a lower, quieter voice. "It was a great fight." His eyes flashed mischievously. You got the impression he wasn't talking about the board game anymore. He leaned down so he could speak quietly into your ear, so no one could hear but you. "But you should know when you're beaten." He squeezes your knee gently, his fingers curling around the underside of your leg. You exhale a short, soft, forceful sound, and your eyes flutter shut for a second. It was long enough. Iskandar's chuckle was suggestive. "If you want to have a little extra _fun_ tonight, then meet me at my car. You have 20 minutes to make up your mind." He draws back from you, going back to his outwardly friendly and gregarious smile before saying, "And if not, no hard feelings." He rubbed the back of his neck as if bashful, though there wasn't a trace of embarrassment on the man.  
  
"Y-, yeah!" Your voice is a little strangled. You felt something in you heat up in response to Iskandar and his attention. He finally did it. He came right out and propositioned you. You had a feeling it would come to this eventually. He's brilliant. He waited for the moment where your defenses were weakest. He picked the day you allowed yourself to admit mentally that you're attracted to him and curious about what a night with him would be like.  
  
He nodded to you and his grin widened further before he got up off his seat and gathered his things to leave.   
  
You had your own ritual when it came to game nights here at the shop. Every time you came out to 'try' a 'new game' here, you picked up something to bring home. It didn't feel right to use their game, their facility, and do no more than to pay for the food and drink. Some weeks, you splurged and got a whole board game. Other times, you'd buy an expansion pack for a game you already own, or some memorabilia if something doesn't catch your eye.  
  
You return the store's copy of Risk, then purchase a fresh copy of the game to have at your house for when friends outside of this group may come by. You've played it enough for free by now to know the game and form a strategy. Other newbies won't stand a chance.  
  
You look at your watch. It's been ten minutes since Iskandar left. There weren't many people left in the store, but those who were definitely gave you knowing glances. You roll your eyes and shake your head. Iskandar's reputation is going to get you into trouble. The good news, though, is that if you decide to go through with this, you won't have to recount it for anyone. They wouldn't ask. They have their own experiences with him.  
  
 _Well, there_ was _that one girl that came back with a limp. Everyone was curious about that. But she couldn't stop grinning and blushing any time anyone asked her. Just said something about some rope mechanism failing, and--_ Wow, you feel like an idiot. That girl is kinky. She got hurt in a sex-related accident, and she still spoke highly of Iskandar. You half-smile and shake your head. There are worse reasons to get hurt, you guessed.  
  
The clerk bags up your game copy and thanks you for purchasing. You smile awkwardly and turn to leave. At the door, you pause for a second. _Yeah. I think I'll give in tonight,_ you decide. _I could use 'a little extra fun.'_

You spot Iskandar, waiting at his car, standing outside, though he didn't seem to be watching the door to the game shop. In fact, he looked almost bored, waiting there. The jingle of the bells on the door signaled, which drew his attention. When he saw you, his eyes lit up and a smile began to turn his lips up. You hadn't paid much attention before, because Iskandar was always smiling, but his entire face shape changes when he smiles. You can't help smiling back at him, though you press your lips together and bow your head for a second to regain your composure. _No need to look overly eager._ You sling your bag over your shoulder and head towards Iskandar. Each step makes you a little more nervous, but a little more giddy, too.  
  
You stop at the passenger's side door, and he leans his forearms on the roof of the car, catching your attention. You look up and see his expression was more serious. "Do you prefer discretion, or are you more open with your tastes?"   
  
Oh, man. He's not mincing words _at all_. Your eyes dart back and forth between his eyes and his hands, unable to focus entirely as you search your thoughts. "Hmm. Um. How about, discretion for now, openness later?" You weren't sure how to handle a direct question like that. He didn't offer context. Did he mean discretion before, during, or after? The way he looked at you, he wasn't pushing you to give either answer. His expression softened, and his easy smile returned.   
  
"I can handle that," he answers, pushing off the roof of the car and opening his door to get in. "If you're ready, then, let's go!"  
  
Once he ducks into the car, your eyebrows lift and your eyes close. You grin like a fool, allowing your excitement to flow through you in full for a brief moment before you reach for the door handle. You compose yourself before getting in. Iskandar starts the car and adjusts the volume on his radio to ask you, "My place, or yours?"  
  
You consider him for a moment. "Hmmm. My place," you decide. It wasn't too far away by car, and you would feel more comfortable in your own space. Truthfully, you just didn't want to have to go anywhere afterwards, so part of your decision was a little bit of laziness.  
  
"Your place, it is," Iskandar confirms and throws his car into gear. "So, where do you live?"

//////////////////////

The ride home was quiet conversationally, but the music Iskandar played eased the tension. It helped, too, that he wasn't at all shy about singing along with what was playing. You recognized the tune, but didn't know it well enough to sing along, so instead, to busy yourself and do anything besides think about how anxious you were, you tapped your fingers to the beat, awkwardly bobbed your head, and stared out the window.  
  
It was a little strange how Iskandar put you at ease with his nature, but set you on edge with his intent. Your curiosity about him began to overtake your nerves, and as you got closer to your home, you had come up with a few scenarios in your head of how this would all play out. You fantasized about Iskandar, while he sat next to you, driving you home on your way to have a one-night stand.  
  
No wonder he got around. You glance over to see him in the throes of a particularly soulful note. His head tipped back, eyes shut, brows turned up in the middle and his mouth hanging open, to you, did not look like he was singing. You swallow the lump in your throat and look away, back to the window where you let the mental image of Iskandar's face burn into your memory.  
  
You were home in five minutes, but the trip felt longer. Now that you're here, it feels like no time at all. Iskandar shut the car off, the music on the radio dying, leaving you in silence.  
  
A moment passes, and you don't move. You hear rustling next to you, and when you look over, you see that Iskandar turned towards you to address you fully. "Not too late to walk away, you know," he said, his voice calm and soothing. His eyes were kind and tone understanding. A wave of appreciation washes over you, but it's immediately followed by dread. You don't want him to leave.  
  
You _really_ didn't want him to leave. The realization dawns on you that your nervousness up to this point was not about your indecision regarding going home with Iskandar. It was anxiety over finally agreeing. It was the end of a long game of cat and mouse.   
  
This was anticipation on a scale you've rarely experienced.  
  
When you look up at him, you feel a smile start pulling at the corners of your mouth. "Walk away? From my own house? That makes no sense." Your smile lights up your eyes, a sense of mischief showing through. "You came all this way. Might as well come in," you punctuate your invitation by swinging the car door open, grabbing your game bag, and leaving the car. You don't hear him make any movements, so duck into the car doorway before closing it. You grin at him genially. "Not too late to walk away, you know?"  
  
The slightest look of shock on his face at you turning his words on him so quickly was priceless, though it rapidly shifted to a half-smirk. He seemed to take it as a challenge, like you were testing his resolve. He wordlessly exits his vehicle and shuts the door. He stares at you over the roof of his car, inclining his head towards your building. An invitation. An answer to your challenge.  
  
He lets you lead the way to your front door. You act nonchalant, hold the door open for Iskandar, who has to duck to get comfortably through your doorway, then follow him in, closing and locking the door behind you.  
  
Iskandar chuckles. "Trapped now, aren't I?" You smirk, turn to give a retort, then find him looming over you, his hand resting on the door behind you. He watched your eyes carefully for some kind of a reaction, but made no other moves.   
  
You were startled. You haven't ever been this close to Iskandar unless you were sitting, so he never appeared to be so damn big. Sure, he always looked tall and built, but seeing it from a distance, and having him zero in on you now were entirely different experiences. You stare up at him, feeling your pulse climb and a blush warm your face. You exhale softly and dart your tongue over your lips, which suddenly feel quite dry. Iskandar's eyelids dropped, his eyes now half-closed. He sees your blush and decides to push his luck, his free hand ghosting up your arm from wrist to shoulder.   
  
You grit your teeth, your eyebrows creasing in the middle. Your eyes lock on his while your hand reaches out, shaky and nervous, to touch against his shoulder. He paused his movements, patiently letting you take the lead for the moment, removing his hand from your arm and placing it on the door at your other side, caging you against the door. Encouraged, you reach up and rest your free hand on his other shoulder, eliciting from him an appreciative sigh. Your eyes widen at his response to such a trivial touch. You break eye contact with him to look down to his chest, where you see a picture of a world map printed on his shirt. You vaguely remember there was a video game years ago that offered such a tee shirt as a bonus item.   
  
Without a thought, your hands drift downward, tracing the edges of the lines on the map with your fingertips. You notice Iskandar holds his breath and feel him shudder under your touch. You press your palms to his chest and look up at his face again. His pecs felt firm and toned, but your attention was drawn away from that at the feeling of his fingertips tracing up along your spine. You didn't even notice him reaching behind you to do that. His touch sends a shiver through your system, followed by a definite heat spreading through your belly and limbs. You let a quiet quaking breath out slowly, tilting your face up to his.  
  
Iskandar accepts your invitation. He shuffle-steps forward and dips his head down, touching his lips to yours. Soft though it was, this first kiss sent a spark through your blood. His movements were gentle, slow, patient and exploratory.   
  
This was not at all what you expected out of him. Your chest tightens, your eyes ease shut, and you finally respond, leaning into him, your hands moving up again to thread your fingers through his hair. Iskandar groans against your mouth in appreciation. His hands find your shoulder blades, pulling you in and drawing you more firmly against him.  
  
Something about the way he held you hit you just right. The feeling of his hands on you, his lips on yours, and the way your body molded to his set off something within you. It was as if his attention was tailor-made for you and what you needed. Everything, right down to the subtleties in his responses felt _right._ Before you can stop yourself, you allow a lewd little groan to emanate from your throat. You pushed your tongue against his mouth and pressed it to the seam of his lips, earning you a breathless-sounding chuckle from Iskandar before he allows you to deepen your shared kiss.  
  
The sensation of his tongue gliding against yours electrified you and sent a shock of adrenaline through your system. Iskandar hummed in approval, rewarding your demanding actions by allowing his hands to roam. His hands ran up and down your back, one to the nape of your neck, the other moving down to your lower back and hip. You couldn't repay his touch in the same way, so instead scratched at his scalp and the back of his neck, a slightly frustrated growl vibrating your chest.  
  
The world seems to fade into your growing haze. The friction and attention between you and Iskandar started to take its toll on your patience. You wanted _more._ You needed something besides making out in the doorway. You couldn't continue to be restricted in your movements to pull at his hair. There was so much more of Iskandar to see and touch, and you were still in the doorway, having not made it three feet into your house.  
  
As if he could read your mind, Iskandar's hand on your hip wandered down and his palm rubbed the round of your ass, his fingers curling against the curve there. You break off the kiss and gasp, involuntarily flexing against his hold and squirming against him. Iskandar looked down at you again, this time with a blush on _his_ face, his jaw slightly open to allow his breath to come in short puffs.   
  
When your eyes meet again, he lets a suggestive smile slide across his lips. When he spoke, his voice was lower and more husky. "Bedroom?"  
  
You nod quickly. With that, Iskandar relaxes his hold on you and steps back, giving you space to breathe. When he does retreat, you feel every cell in your body reaching for him, wanting for him to touch you and kiss you, wanting to do those same things for him. That hungry look must have been apparent on your face, because his smile went from suggestive to smug. With the scraps left of your self-control, you pull together a smirk of your own, diluting your outward lust to give the appearance of willfulness. One of your hands moved to cradle his cheek, the mix of your smile and the lustful look in your eye giving you a predatory appearance. "Bedroom's good."  
  
Iskandar's chuckle shook you both. "Lead on, then."  
  
He gently separates from you to give you space to breathe and get your bearings. You're grateful for that, since your senses are all over the place and, even though this is your house, your brain was decidedly focused on other things. You blink to clear your head and look around. It takes only a second for you to remember where your room is. You start towards the hallway, stopping beside Iskandar and inclining your head towards the bedroom. Your hand touches his arm on the way past, urging him to follow behind you as you resume your walk towards the hall.  
  
You find the door to your room and step over the threshold. A force stops you from stepping further in and draws you backwards, arms curling around your body to cradle you, one arm draped around your middle, the other across your chest with a hand rested on your shoulder. Iskandar's breath is warm against the back of your neck and your ear. He pulls you against him, his broad chest pressed to your back. There, he holds you, as though he wishes to keep you there. You're patient, though you lean back into him, your head rolling back against Iskandar's shoulder, one of your hands reaching up again to touch his face and the other touching the arm across your chest. The way he held you felt warm, loving, and protective.  
  
When you have that realization, part of you panics. This isn't what you're here for. This is a different level of familiarity you're not sure you're comfortable with.  
  
He apparently sensed your apprehension, because his hands began to move. His palms ran over your chest and abdomen in sweeping, circular motions, testing you, feeling you. You begin to relax and sigh into the open air. Iskandar hums, then bows his head down and plants a teasing, lingering kiss to the spot on your neck just below your ear. You suck a breath in between grit teeth, a surprising wave of heat overtaking you from that one simple touch. Answering your response, Iskandar tightens his hold on you, laving the crook of your neck with his tongue, grinding his body slightly against yours.  
  
You turn your head away from Iskandar, exposing your shoulder for him, your mouth falling open and a harsh exhale leaving your body. That heat prickles at your skin and makes something in your gut stir. You close your eyes against the building sensations, letting Iskandar move against you the way he wants before you start matching his movements with your own. You press back against him, shuddering from the feeling of his hands becoming bolder. His hand on your chest curled and dragged his fingernails over your clothes, catching your nipple with one, eliciting from you a whimper when you jumped at the contact. His chortle at your reaction, paired with the sharp sensation of his fingernails sent blood straight to your cock, and you felt yourself stir.   
  
That same hand on your chest came up to cradle your chin, then forced your head to tilt away and expose your neck. His teeth came down on you in a gentle, heated bite. At the same time, the hand he had on your abdomen moved down and cupped your groin. Your groan was strangled. Your body shuddered again and hips bucked against his hand. You feel him shiver at your responsiveness as he rubbed you through your clothes, coaxing you, feeling you. His muffled, quiet moan sounded like approval, and as you hardened against his touch, his hand went from rubbing you, to stroking you, his fingers curled around your shaft with as much grip as your clothing would allow.  
  
He released you from his bite, then pressed his lips against the back of your ear. His tone was low and quiet, his voice laced with growing need. "You're already hard for me." He chuckled breathily. "I'm flattered." He gently squeezes your cock, which throbs against the contact, making you gasp. He sighs, then ruts against your ass. You can feel his eagerness growing, making you issue a stuttering groan, as if you were fighting your desires for him. "Now, undress for me, and sit on the bed." With that command, he releases you completely, his mouth, hands, and body leaving you all at once.  
  
You welcome the idea of discarding your clothes. The room had become oppressively hot in the short time you'd been here. While you wrench off your tee shirt, you hear a jovial laugh coming from your doorway, where Iskandar still waits, leaning on the wall just inside the door. He grins at you. "Eagerness is good, but don't trip and fall if that's how you're going to take your pants off."  
  
You're now quite aware of your audience. Iskandar watches you. His attention doesn't feel intrusive; in fact, you find you like that he's looking at you instead of trying to pretend to respect your privacy, especially after a display like what happened in that doorway. No, his look wasn't invasive or intrusive. It was expectant. It was patient. He'd given you an order, and you were already following it.  
  
 _Might as well go with it,_ your brain shrugs off your unwitting obedience to him. So far, letting him lead has proven to be lucrative for you, in terms of attention. You take a deep, quiet breath, letting it out slowly and calming yourself enough to disrobe without embarrassing yourself by trying to yank your pants down, only to trip and break something.  
  
You stand up straight after removing the last of your clothes, your jeans, underpants, and socks all pooled around your feet, your shirt somewhere forgotten. You look back to Iskandar, checking to make sure you had his attention. His expression was unreadable, but he nodded to you, toward the bed, where he told you to sit.   
  
The mattress gives a little when you sit. Thankfully, you had the presence of mind today to make your bed, so you didn't have to push anything aside just to sit down. When yuo settle down and look back at Iskandar again, waiting for your next command, you see him push off the wall, stepping toward you with slow, measured steps. When he approaches, you're reminded just how large this guy is. Sitting on the bed, you're eye level with his abdomen. He doesn't move for a long moment, staring down at you. You look back up at him, beginning to feel awkward. Your eyebrows quirk up in question.  
  
Iskandar's eyes narrow, then he reaches down and takes your hand. He then presses it to his abdomen, center mass.   
  
Realization dawns on you. You've let him lead, yes, but you've done nothing for him since he's been here. He's initiated everything. Now, using actions, he's told you to touch him. Your eyes drift down from his face to your hand, and you move your palm experimentally across his belly. His abs flex in response, and you hear a soft, shuddering sigh from above.   
  
You heat up all over again from his response to your touch. You keep your hand moving, small circles across his abs, feeling the ridges there. You add your other hand and the circles get wider. Your hands roam over his chest, up his sides, around his back, and down his hips and thighs, all over his clothes, all teasing Iskandar and eliciting tiny, quiet, pleasing sounds from him.  
  
Your eyes dart from his face, to your hands, and occasionally to his groin, which was just in front of you. Until now, you'd not paid much attention, but a defined line started to cast a shadow, outlining his cock, which had begun to stir from your attention.  
  
Your fingers curled and your fingertips were all that made contact with him now. You let your fingertips glide up under his tee shirt, touching his skin. Iskandar takes in a deep breath and tips his head back, letting that deep breath out in a long, slow sigh.   
  
You take your chances. While he's distracted by your hands, you dip your head forward, pressing the seam of your lips against the line at the front of his pants. "Mmnh," you hear him groan through sealed lips, then feel his hands rest on your shoulders. Your eyes slide shut, your lips part, and you mouth at the bulge growing beneath your attention. Iskandar's fingers start to knead your shoulders. You can feel him flex under your fingertips and hear his breath deepen. He bowed his head to watch you work, and the sight of you diligently working his cock through his jeans forced a groan from him. He eased you off and away from him, then took a half step back. His eyes were hooded, his gaze boring through you. He made the decision to strip down, too, peeling his tee shirt off.  
  
As you suspected, that tee shirt might as well have been paint. Iskandar was expertly cut, and the color of his skin was even, despite the fact that he spent a lot of time indoors. All of your attention is on him now, everything from his hungry gaze, to his chiseled abs, to his hands, which reached to unbuckle his belt.  
  
At the sound of his belt coming undone, your hand absently reaches to touch your cock. Iskandar pauses, sees you stroking yourself and smirks before he continues, loosening his belt and pushing the rest of his clothes down and off. When he stands up again, he makes eye contact with you before he reaches down and strokes himself, a slow, gentle pace. You inhale a short, sharp breath, then sigh, your hand pausing its movements. Iskandar smirks at you lazily. "Don't tell me you're embarrassed, now?" He let himself go, but not before he pushed his cock forward, just to it could snap back and bounce, forcing your gaze to his groin. He gave a smug chuckle, then stepped forward, ignoring your apparent apprehension, kneeling on the bed beside you and pushing you down to the bed.   
  
You recline easily, accommodating him and scooting back so he could comfortably lie down if he wanted. Instead, he knelt between your legs, his form hovering over yours, his hands on either side of you. You look up at him, your voice quavering, strained with lust. "No. Not embarrassed. I just..." Your entire body jerks, and you release a rough groan, your hands flying up to touch Iskandar's shoulders. He'd tilted and rolled his hips, the length of his cock rubbing against yours, the hot and sensitive flesh pulsing under the pressure. Iskandar leans to one side, freeing a hand to slide between you, gripping your shafts together and sliding his fist up and down in slow, torturous strokes.  
  
He watches your eyes roll back and slide shut, and his voice becomes hoarse. "Just what?" He leans down and nibbles ad your earlobe and neck. His breath spans over your skin, making you shiver. He grinds the next words out, the control he's keeping over his desire starting to crack. "Are you afraid you're gonna cum already?" You whine pathetically at his question, your body telling him the answer to that when you thrust into his hand, making yourself shudder with effort. "Oh, don't you worry about that," his voice rumbles all around you. "We'll keep going afterwards." He releases your cocks and plants his palms to either side, though he keeps his face pressed to the side of your head.   
  
Your body responds before you can think. Your knees raise and your heels gain purchase in the mattress. When Iskandar began to roll his body against yours, he slid his entire length against yours. You couldn't help but respond in kind, your hands grasping for a grip, which you found at Iskandar's sides. The feeling of his body moving, and the sounds of his shuddering breath and hot groans threatened to undo you. You press the back of your head against the mattress, your breath beginning to come in whimpering, breathy exhales. Your body began to shake, and you hear Iskandar encourage you. "I know you want to cum for me," his voice strained with effort. "Do it...!"  
  
Your brows turned up as your pleasure reached its peak. Your forehead wrinkled and your grip on Iskandar tightened. Your thrusts upward against him became erratic and uncontrollable. Your entire body goes rigid, and a long, low groan tears from your throat. Your cock throbs and pulses, hot, white fluid issued from your cock. Each new breath gave another, slightly shorter moan, until you were left, breathless and spent, under Iskandar.  
  
He was careful when he pushed up off of you, smirking down on your tired form. Sticky threads joined you together, though easily fell away, your cum coating both your midsection and Iskandar's. He posed for you, allowing you to drink in the sight of him covered in your seed. "Not many people can say they've cum on me quite like this," he informs you with a teasing tone. "But, since you were so hard to get, I thought I'd make an exception."  
  
You smirk lazily at him, though a shiver goes through you, your brain imprinting the image for you so you could remember it later. The sight of his still-rigid cock reminded you that he hadn't gotten off yet. Your eyes find his, and find him waiting for you. "Uh," you try to piece together a whole thought, "what do you want to do now..?"  
  
Iskandar flashes that same big, friendly smile he always has. "That depends on you," he says, considering you for a moment. "I'm not sure what you'd be most comfortable with." He rubs his chin in thought, humming to make a show of it. "You could blow me. You seemed eager enough for that before," he lifts one eyebrow, his grin turning suggestive. "Or," he continued before you could answer, "I could simply jerk off on you. Pay you back for shooting me," he gestures broadly to the mess between you. "Or!" He kept going, as though he really wanted for you to hear all the options. "Hmmm. Have you got any lube around here?" He looks around, trying to find something to serve as a lubricant.  
  
"UH, yeah. Hang on." You know exactly where he's going with that suggestion. It's been a little while since the last time somebody fucked you like that, so you were more leaning towards that option. Your lube was top-notch, smelled great, and definitely did the job on the nights you rubbed one out. You'd treated yourself the last time you bought lube, and were not disappointed by the result.   
  
You twist your body so you can reach into your end table drawer, producing from it the bottle. You shake it to make sure there's enough, and there's plenty. You look back over at Iskandar, then toss it his way. He turns it over in his hand, looking at the label. "Oh, very nice," he croons, admiring your choice. His eyes went from the bottle, to your face, and he paused. "Do you want to face me, or not?"  
  
"Hmm, tough call," you make a show of considering his question. "Yeah. I think I do," you make up your mind.  
  
Iskandar grins. The bottle pops open, he pours some into his hand, then closes the lid and places it down within reach. "Excellent," he nods as he rubs his hands together, coating his fingers in the fluid. "Then, lie flat, and spread your knees for me." He guided you to where he wanted you, your knees up and split, spreading yourself out for him.  
  
You feel exposed. Iskandar lies next to you, his free hand coming up under your thigh, his slick fingers ghosting against your skin. You shiver with delight, then let your eyes close again, waiting for him to continue.  
  
He presses the tip of one digit gently against your ring. You gasp from the sudden contact, tense from the sensation. Instead of pressing into you, the finger moves in a slow circle, firm but gentle, massaging your hole. Iskandar watches your expression carefully, which is somewhat strained. As his finger moved, your face began to relax. As soon as he was satisfied you were okay, he pressed forward, gently forcing his finger pad past your ring. You force the tip of your tongue against the back of your teeth and exhale a short, sharp sound that would have been a whimper, if any sound had accompanied it. In an effort to distract you from the discomfort, Iskandar peppers your shoulder and biceps with kisses, and words of praise flow freely from his lips,   
  
The discomfort began to ease, and your body went from tensed, to relaxed, your breath going from stressed, ragged puffs to gentle, soft panting. Iskandar worked his finger into you, massaging the inside of your asshole until you were fully relaxed and comfortable. He curls his finger in just such a way that he presses against your prostate, forcing the wind from your lungs and making you moan in a pitch slightly higher than you would have expected. A blush darkens your face when you hear your own voice. You didn't know you were capable of making a sound like _that._  
  
Iskandar shifts and pushes up, using the hand still covered in slick to coat his cock in the lubricant. He looked down at your face as he stroked, in time with the movements of his finger within you. You bite the tip of your tongue and whimper again, your hand moving down to touch your still-recovering cock, your palm cupping it. Iskandar shuddered when you looked at him again. "Are you ready?" he asks in earnest.  
  
You swallow hard, your mouth watering, then nod quickly. To make your point, you lift your hips up, then stare him in the eye, daring him to keep going.  
  
Iskandar rumbled with approval, removed his finger from you, then leaned forward, steadying himself and pressing the tip of his cock against your asshole. He sank into you slowly, though the ragged moan that came from him made you believe he wanted nothing more than to fuck you senseless. You grit your teeth and hiss through the discomfort. He jockeys one of your legs up to spread you further, to ease your pain. Your jaw slackens and your mouth hangs open by the time he's fully pushed into you, your pain turned to pleasure as you adjust. With your face flushed and your eyes half-lidded, you seize Iskandar by the back of his head and pull him down into a feverish, desperate kiss. You plunge your tongue into his mouth and swallow his groans as you flex and squirm under him.  
  
Though he's already pushed in to the hilt, Iskandar's hips buck against yours, forcing him to grind within you. The power in his thrust nearly knocks the wind from your lungs, and you break away from the kiss, a short, loud outcry forced from you.   
  
You have no time to recover. Iskandar draws back, then pushes into you again, this time slower, but ending the thrust with another powerful grind. Your head falls back and you surrender yourself to Iskandar.  
  
For his part, Iskandar pushed up off of you again so he could watch you once you broke the kiss. He was breathless and his smirk was gone, but that hazy, lust-filled look in his eyes remained fixed on you. Though the lube made it much easier mechanically for him to fuck you, you still had some difficulty with the size of him. He stretched you until you were near your limit, filling you completely with each and every thrust. You felt near to bursting all over again, at once oblivious to the sounds around you, and keenly aware of them, your senses overwhelmed.   
  
You sneak a peek to see Iskandar had bowed his head and shut his eyes, concentrating on keeping the pace even and slow, giving you time to get used to him. Your skin tingled, pins and needles all over, from the sight of him holding back. You reach down and grip his hair, forcing him to look at you again. His expression was a mix of surprise and impatience. You sigh, a shaky, breathless sound. "Stop _trying_ to fuck me, and fuck me," you demand, flexing your muscles and clamping around his cock, earning you a gasp from Iskandar, who clearly didn't expect a demand from you.  
  
A series of micro-expressions pass over his face, but he settles finally on a challenging smile. "If that's _really_ what you want," he speaks through puffs of breath before he adjusts his hold on you. He sits back on his heels and pulls you back, your legs held up by his arms and his hands holding your hips. "Last chance. Are you sure?"  
  
You sneer at him. " _Yes,_ I'm sure. Hurry up!"   
  
Iskandar's face darkens, and his mouth opens in silent laughter, before morphong into that look of concentration.   
  
You yelp harshly as he begins his punishing pace right out the gate. There is no ramping up. There is no more gentleness. You made a demand of Iskandar, and he was ready to submit to it.   
  
You're helpless. You can only grip the sheet under you and hang on for dear life while Iskandar pounds into you. Every single thrust was brutal, every impact loud and lewd. You hear Iskandar's breath deepen, and with each one, he groans, allowing himself to get lost in the moment.   
  
His hand, still with slick residue on it, curls around your cock and strokes it. You howl in a mix of pleasure and pain, still used from before, though you'd started to harden again. You writhe and thrash, totally at the mercy of your reactions, the last of your self-control obliterated after Iskandar's first stroke.  
  
Precum leaks copiously from your tip at the sheer brutality of Iskandar's attention. His fist pumps you, every so often his thumb brushing across your tip, driving you higher and higher, your fingers clawing at the sheets. You can't form words. You can barely form thoughts. Through the haze, you hear Iskandar's voice, low and husky, "I'm gonna fill your tight little ass." His following breaths were open-mouthed, shameless, growling breaths, and you know he's close. His words pierce through, though, and drive you torturously over the edge in a second, surprise orgasm, much weaker than the first, though your body is wracked already. Your outcries sound pained, Iskandar's grip at the base of your cock tightened, prolonging your release, your asshole clenching and flexing against his cock.  
  
He releases your cock and grabs your hips again, pulling you harshly against him in his final thrusts. He throbs within you, responding to your spasming asshole. He grinds into you, every pulse of him coming with its own shuddering breath and moan.   
  
Your body is awash with relief. You collapse to the mattress, unwilling to move, allowing yourself time to recover. The mix of pain and pleasure Iskandar gave _without_ having to resort to tools or toys was incredible, and you're completely stricken by the magnitude of how _good_ you felt afterwards.  
  
Iskandar pulls out of you, careful not to go too quickly. You grunt as the tip of hi leaves, fluid leaking out of you and onto the sheet. Iskandar lies down beside you, catching his breath. He clearly wasn't as spent and used as you were, but you're hardly surprised by that. You start to catch your breath and the world starts to fill in around you. You bring your arm up to cover your eyes and sigh deeply, daring to speak first. "Fucking hell."  
  
Iskandar chuckles, still trying to catch his breath. "Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah." You pause. "How'd you know what I'd like, anyway?" You look over at him, perplexed. You hadn't discussed _anything_ about what you'd be doing tonight, but he just seemed to _know._  
  
He gave a winning grin. "Well, you get to know a lot of people, you start to learn how to read them." He shrugged. "Educated guess, really."  
  
You stare at him for a long moment. Then you sigh again. "All right. I guess that makes sense." Your hand rests on your abdomen, moving down from your face, then you feel the fluids still splashed all over your belly. You smile wryly. "Guess I ought to clean up. This shit's going to chafe."   
  
He looks at you and smirks. "You know, you're right." He pushed up from the bed, offering a hand to you. "Let's both go get washed up."  
  
"Huh?" You stare at him dumbly. "What do you mean?"  
  
Iskandar's smile was back in full swing. "Come on, now. Interesting things can happen in the bath..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO I am not a yaoi writer. If you're a person that experiences emotions and sexuality in a male body, I would definitely appreciate feedback on how I did here. I prostrate myself to the readers. Please, if you have feedback for this chapter, I would love to hear it. 
> 
> ALSO
> 
> I have social media set up for my writing pages now! Follow me on:
> 
> Facebook: Chromatic Stasis
> 
> Twitter: @ChromaticStasis

**Author's Note:**

> So, I am writing what I know by doing a female!reader situation. I am happy to attempt to write something with a male character, if my readers would like to see that. Just let me know!


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